


I told her that this was necessary

by brightsparx



Series: Life must go on [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canonical Rape/Non-con, Gen, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 65,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightsparx/pseuds/brightsparx
Summary: What goes through Rafael Barba's head as Amanda admits Patton raped her in Forgiving Rollins? He pushed her to tell him what she knew of Patton but now where does that leave him? A little glimpse into the tough ADA's thoughts... and who will he turn to for help for himself or her?Amanda is not the only one reeling, nor is she the only one trying to heal......





	1. I told her that that this was necessary

**Author's Note:**

> A/N I don't own anyone and any recognisable dialogue is straight from the episodes S16E10 Forgiving Rollins and S15E10 Psycho/Therapist.

 

 

 **I** told her that this was necessary, if the judge allowed it we needed to be ready.

 **I** told her I knew she had testified before but not about her own assault.

 **I** pushed her to tell me the details she had guarded so carefully for so long.

She had barely even said that she consented to sex with Deputy Chief Patton **"at first"** because he inferred that if she had sex with him her sister wouldn't be prosecuted and my stomach had started to roll….

I tried but don't think I managed to hide a brief grimace as reality started to dawn.

She didn't seem to even truly understand what she had said, like she had never really thought about it before…..she consented **"at first"**.

Oh god. No!

She told me she lay down on the bed, he was drunk and started pulling at her clothes and already I was struggling to keep my game face on. I know I flinched…..I couldn't help it. She told me how he got rough with her, biting, slapping and banging her head against the headboard, I could see how her body language was changing, like it was only now she started to understand with these acknowledgements what had happened all that time ago.

She shifted in her seat trying to shake off the reality that was now settling on her too. She told me how she tried to get up but he told her  _"Amanda, you know I don't take 'No" for an answer"_ …..

I knew then, for sure.

This was exactly what Det. Taymore had said.

It's one of the first rules of being a lawyer, you don't ask a question you don't know the answer to. I know this was a trial prep so this was the time to ask the questions to make sure I knew the answers, but what was I thinking? I don't know why I asked her _'Then what happened…..'_. Was it my training? Or was it Benson's frequent assertion that victims have to confront it all to begin healing? Or was it my selfish desire to win? I don't know… but I can't forget the deep breath she took before her haunted admission that he pinned her wrists above her head, told her she wasn't going anywhere and no-one would believe her anyway.

The sick feeling that had been gnawing away at my stomach was beginning to over power me and I couldn't speak. I just looked at her as she admitted to giving up. And then the whispered admission that took my breath away, that he raped her.

I watched the tears glisten in her eyes. How she bit her bottom lip to try and take back the words she had just let out. All the experience working with victims deserted me as I stood trying to keep the horror off my face. I don't think I did so well….. She just took a few deep breaths and twisted in her seat for a minute before stiffly saying _"Thank you Counselor, I'll see you tomorrow"_. As she walked out I stood there, rooted to the spot.

She has barely finished admitting the long denied facts, he had raped her…

In those three words I had forced her to admit, what had I done to her?

Did I ever really believe it was truly an assault and no more, or did I suspect the truth and just 'use' her guilt about Det. Taymore to strengthen my case against Patton? Sure, I knew that Det. Taymore had made a couple of pointed comments on the stand that had to have been directed at Rollins. Sure, she came to me wanting to testify about an 'assault', when initially she had claimed to know nothing. Then when Patton himself had implied that they had a _'history'_ she said that he had taken advantage of a bad position she had put herself in. She claimed that prior bad acts were inadmissible and NOTHING really happened. Blaming herself , insisting on it being off the record, refusing to answer the question _'had Patton raped her?_ ', she said _'based on her personal experience she believed Det Taymore was telling the truth…'_

It just kept escalating with every forced revision.

Her whole demeanour screamed the hidden truth.

As professionals in dealing with these horrible crimes, did we really not just KNOW…..?

Was I so desperate to get him because he called me a "Spanish Dandy"? Because it was a high profile high risk trial for me that I didn't consider what this would do to her? What was I thinking?

Should I have insisted on Benson being present?

Benson…

It's only a year since she sat in the same place. Trial prep for her case against Lewis. And look at how I screwed that up too.

God what was I doing?

When I think back now I can remember how hard she fought against his offer to plead to rape. How she railed at me _"you saw the rape kit after four days, he didn't have the balls to rape me….."_. I wasn't sure then that I believed he hadn't raped her. I definitely didn't understand why she would risk a trial and a jury when he had offered to plead guilty to such serious charges. After all the degradation he put her through, was this admission so important?

I have worked with SVU for a couple of years now and have come to understand the peculiar heinous nature of sex crimes. I am as haunted by the cases as the detectives are. Even the wins aren't necessarily something to celebrate. How did El Tiburón begin to care more for the people than his Win-Count? That sounds more like the scared niño from el barrio….. Damn!

Watching the beginning of the effect of those three little words being whispered by Rollins, maybe I'm only now understanding their power.

He. Raped. Me.

I've heard it so many times over the last couple of years and it still has the power to make me queasy but…..have I ever understood it until now?

I hear it said by hurt and scared victims all the time, as they put their pain on display in the hopes of regaining some of their lost control in a plea for justice. But I hear the words when they have been long acknowledged and oft practiced. I'm not the one who watches someone struggle to **begin** to categorise their experience into a legal definition. Sure, I often force victims into revealing a small detail they tried to keep hidden, but I'm not the one who **first** hears them utter the details that make up their story and see the realization dawn that this was not an assault this was a **rape**. I'm the one who helps streamline the experience into a testimony that will aid the case. Like when Benson started to say she froze before reaching for her gun when Lewis broke into her apartment to attack her, I told her to leave that detail out, to not imply anything was her fault.

But I failed her. I failed, again, to hold Lewis legally accountable for his actions, this time last year. I didn't understand why Benson would baulk at him saying those words for her. I failed her again by not convicting him on every charge. After letting him walk the first time so he could kidnap her, I failed her again by not even ensuring the record accurately showed what he did to her. And my failure allowed him to escape and get her again. Even though this time there was to be no trial, his death ensuring that he escaped justice for the final time. Though relieved and happy at her assertions that yet again he didn't rape her, I wondered were the ill effects of the experience somehow diminished by this fact? I couldn't really understand the immense difference in an attempted rape or a completed rape in this particular circumstance. The degradation, sexual assault and torture of the two experiences was so all encompassing that it seemed a rather hallow victory to be celebrating that she wasn't raped. Until now…

They are so alike, these two women. Rollins and Benson are both so strong and yet so compassionate. How do they manage to maintain their sanity when they deal with such violence everyday? And now by forcing this horrible admission from Rollins, have I fundamentally changed her? Or had the rape five years ago done that? She has had her problems since joining SVU, but never have I seen her so…broken. The admission may have fractured the pieces left by the rape, beyond repair.

Is that the real power of the admission for these women? Are even they not immune to the self loathing, self blame and shame we see in every other victim? Even though they know the truth, that no victim bears any fault for their attack. Even though they understand at the most fundamental level that there is nothing to be ashamed of. We repeat these facts to every victim, that only their attacker bears any fault. They bear no shame. They did nothing to invite or encourage their assault. I learned very early on in my time with SVU that rape has very little to do with a penis penetrating a vagina. The legal definition of sodomy, a penis or object penetrating a mouth, an anus or a vagina doesn't adequately explain the crime. I learned that these are just the acts that begin the devastating chain of events that comprise a rape. It's the unwanted invasion of someone's being. It's the inability to prevent an intrusion. It's the fear. It's the betrayal of a physical body, that in an effort to protect itself from injury responds to stimulation. It's the pain of an act that should usually bring pleasure. It's the enforced intimacy that should be reserved for a chosen partner. It's the residual feelings of being somehow contaminated by the filth of the unwanted forced act. The fluids that would usually signal enjoyment translated into filthy reminders that refuse to disappear regardless of scrubbing. It's the memories of being held down and having a part or someone else pushing into you. It's the rest of their body touching you, laying on you. It's the bruises that belie the struggle to stop the invasion. It's the gnawing doubt that you should have struggled more or not worn those clothes or not gone there or it wouldn't have happened. It's the mental pain that you couldn't protect your most precious jewel, your own physical being. It's the fear of being perceived as weak. It's the fear of being perceived as having invited or encouraged it. It's the vulnerability of being naked, even partly so. It's the confusion that ravages your mind. It's the belief that somehow now you are now, less. It's the belief that you are broken. It's the difficulty in allowing anyone else to replicate any action that even resembles the forced one. It's the inability to differentiate between invited physical contact and forced contact, all touch feels like the attack. It's the understanding that people feel they can believe or not believe the violation occurred. It's the admission that by saying I was raped, that all these things are true.

But even without the admission are they any less true?

Did I only want Benson there for Rollin's outcry to save me from having to deal with it? Now I must decide whether it should remain strictly confidential or should be disclosed to the police, her colleagues. I will fight to have her be allowed to testify but surely the judge cannot allow such a prejudicial unsubstantiated witness? How will this further affect Rollins' healing? Is this tantamount to being not believed? 

God how I wish Benson were here. She can always handle these things with grace and dignity. She would know what to do.

Should these women not somehow be safe from falling victim to the horrors they spend their working lives trying to prevent and deal with?

After 16 years in SVU how can Benson still find compassion for every victim as if they were the first? She would want to know how bad things were for Rollins with Patton, so she could help her. But would Rollins want to be helped?

They are so alike. And Olivia hated to be coddled after Lewis. She hated to be pitied or sympathized with. She felt weakened by Lewis' actions and couldn't see how in awe of her strength in dealing with even THIS, we all were. She hated to be even called a victim.

Stop it Rafael!

I can't let my feelings for Olivia show through. They must be hidden deep. She deserves better than the scared niño who allowed her attacker the freedom to continuously victimize her. And I can't think of her as a victim. EVER.

She is amazing. Her poise, her grace and her beauty are undeniable.

Why, Rafael, can you not just admit how you feel about her? As your abuelita always tells you, _'why can you not see that you deserve good things Rafi?'_

She would be good for you. But would you be good enough for her?

And it would be a conflict of interest. You could both lose your jobs. That's if she even was interested in you. More likely she would just turn you down and then where would you be? Trying to work with her after she knew how you felt would be impossible.

No! At least this way you have her friendship.

That is more than you deserve.

God Rafi, you are still standing in this now empty courtroom mooning over a woman who is unattainable.

You need to decide what to do about Rollins.

She is the one who is hurting. She needs Olivia, her commanding officer, her friend. And if the judge allows her testimony, Olivia will be blindsided. You can't allow that. You have already failed Rollins by not knowing how to react to her admission. Your face betrayed your shock and horror at what she went through. No! What HE put her through!

You should have known what to say and do. She deserves to have Olivia in her corner. You need to put your feelings aside and call Olivia.

So I pick up the phone rubbing my hand across my face, knowing how hard this call is going to be.

_"Benson"_

_"Sergeant, I've just finished prepping Rollins. There's something you should know….He raped her.'_

 


	2. There's something you should know

So I pick up the phone rubbing my hand across my face, knowing how hard this call is going to be.

_"Benson"_

_"Sergeant, I've just finished prepping Rollins. There's something you should know….He raped her.'_

It's one of those comments you hear all the time, 'The silence was deafening', but it 's something I haven't truly  **lived**  until now. She is completely silent. My heart is racing and I can  **hear**  my blood pumping. My ears being assaulted as if someone is repeatedly clapping their hands over them, as the blood is forced through my arteries. The sensation is making me queasy. I don't know what I expected but the silence worries me more than anything else…..

_"Liv, are you there? Are you ok?"_

_"Ehmmm, I…yeah…hold on….."_

I can hear the rustle of paper as she puts down the files she had been working on and the gentle padding of her feet as she walks across her office, then the slight squeaking and click as she closes the door. Dammit! Why did I not think to ask could she talk or was she alone!? Of course she wants to keep things confidential for Rollins. Again I just didn't think…..

_"…..I'm sorry Counselor, I know I shouldn't be, but I'm shocked. "_

_"Liv, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just blurted it out."_

_"How did we not see this coming?... I mean she told me when she first started here that 'something happened at work, it wasn't worth_ _pursuing'… I should have seen it, I saw her face when we went to interview Det. Taymore…."_

Then I hear her sigh and suck in a deep breath. Then her breath hitches slightly and I understand she is feeling guilt mixed in with her upset. She has nothing to feel guilty for. God! What was I thinking? This is not a conversation for the phone. As always I am thoughtless! Dammit, how do I explain why I was so thoughtless?

 _"Liv, She left a few minutes ago, she didn't give me any indication of where she was going but I knew you needed to know as soon as possible_ _in case she heads back to the squad. I'm just leaving the courthouse. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. We need to discuss how this affects_ _the case against Patton…. And of course Rollins."_

_"OK, Rafael, see you in about 20"_

Dammit Rafael! I curse the second that injected itself between my thought of the case and Rollins. It's not that I don't care it's just that I don't feel I should be discussing her like this. It feels wrong. I start to gather up the files I had strewn on my table for easy reference should the need arise. Sliding them en masse into my briefcase without my usual re-arrangement, I shrug my coat on as I head out to my car.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the full-length glass doors as I leave the courthouse. My suit looks fine for this time of day, but my tie is pulled open a little and my shirt is gaping at the neck, my face looks pale and my hair is slightly askew.

Sitting into the car, I quickly fix my shirt and tie and try to flatten down my hair. El Tiburón is always polished. The frightened niño from el barrio can't breach my suit of armor. I can't help my pallor but I don't want the squad to know something is wrong. And if Rollins has gone back to the squad I don't want her worrying.

My thoughts are jumbled as I drive the short journey on auto-pilot. How do I tell Olivia how badly I handled this? Is Rollins ok? Should I have stopped her from leaving the courtroom after that admission? Will the judge allow her testimony? Would I make it worse by acknowledging it, when I see Rollins again? Would she prefer if I stayed professional and made no reference, except directly to the case? If she doesn't testify should I have kept her secret? How will this affect the case? How will this affect her? And oh,…..Olivia? How has Rollins kept this secret while working SVU? How can she hear the stories and not see what happened to her? Did she really not know he had raped her? Did she really believe, until now, that he had  **ONLY**  assaulted her?

And too soon for my beleaguered mind, I find myself stepping out of the elevator and into the squadroom….

I throw what I hope to be a casual glance, around the squad room. She's not here, I nod my head stiffly at Fin when he raises his head to look at me.

I gently knock and enter Olivia's office, shutting the door behind me.

She has taken my travel time to calm herself. The emotions hinted at in our short phone call are crushed back down under her work mask. She clearly means business as she steps around her desk to sit on the couch gesturing for me to sit too.

_"So counselor, what happened?'"_

I haven't had the same opportunity to settle myself, so use the moment it takes to pull my coat off and place my briefcase down on the table to take a deep breath. I have no conscious control of the sigh that escapes my lips.

I have no idea where to start… So as always, when emotions threaten my carefully constructed veneer, I click into 'lawyer mode'.

 _"After Det. Taymore's testimony, she approached me and asked to testify. She said that she needed to do what she could to help the jury_ _convict…I don't know at this stage if her testimony will be allowed but I told her I would need to prep her in case Judge Barth permits it…"_

I'm trying to explain how we got from her refusing to go on record to prepping her to testify. Knowing I should have let Benson know that this was all happening.

_"I had planned on talking to you after I finished prepping her. As her commanding officer…"_

This was the easy part and I am already sweating. Pulling my blue tie open again, I undo the top button of a conservative striped shirt I had uncharacteristically chosen this morning. She watches me silently. Her brown eyes giving nothing away…

 _"She told me how she had agreed **at first**  to have sex with Deputy Chief Patton, at  **his**  suggestion, in exchange for her sister not being _ _prosecuted. She said he was drunk and started pulling at her clothes, how he got rough with her, biting, slapping and banging her head. She_ _tried to get up, but he told her 'Amanda, you know I don't take no for an answer'…."_

I could see her eyes start to betray her emotions as she listened silently. Her lip curled as her face tensed when she heard this all too familiar phrase and my resolve started to weaken. She had heard these same words from Det. Taymore. While I needed to stop, to  **not**  parrot the dreaded words, I knew she needed to hear them…..

 _"She told me he pinned her wrists above her head, told her she was going nowhere and nobody would believe her. She told me she gave up…._ _and he raped her."_

She gulped in a deep breath, wincing as she did so. She looked down at her hands clasped on her knee.

I hadn't needed any notes, years of experience allowed me to hold information like this in my head. This was different though. This account felt like it was seared into my brain. My years of training didn't allow me to convey the emotions she demonstrated as she made these admissions….even as they replayed in my head. My shoulders sagged and my head dropped. I didn't know how to explain my reactions or the links and assumptions my brain had unconsciously been making as she had spoken.

A lawyer doesn't deviate from the facts. Supposition has no place in the courtroom.

The silence again assaulted my tender ears as Benson absorbed the detail I had given her.

A voice much quieter than the last time she spoke whispered…

_"How was she?"_

My hand unconsciously rubs my face and I start to take off my suit jacket as I try to formulate an answer to this…

_"She was….she….."_

The words won't come out. And Olivia reaches her hand over and rests it on my arm. I can feel my body slumping into the couch now and realize that the conversation is no longer a Sergeant and a DA. It's two people talking about a colleague they are worried about. I'm not in court. It's not just the facts that are important.

_"You know how Rollins is, she wouldn't break down in front of me. I could see her choking back her tears."_

I sound huskier than usual, my emotions starting to break through.

 _"It was like she hadn't really understood that he raped her….."_ I croaked out quietly. My voice cracking as it hasn't since my early adolescence.

She nodded gently.

_"Liv, I'm worried I reacted badly. I didn't ask was she ok…. I didn't try to stop her leaving….And I'm worried I let my shock show….."_

Her hand gently squeezes my arm reassuringly and she looks away for a second. When she looks back I can see tears shining in her eyes. I pat the hand on my arm in an attempt to return the comfort she attempted to share only seconds ago.

_"Rafael, you did nothing wrong. You allowed her to tell her story. You listened. You believed her."_

The breath I hadn't even realized I was holding tumbled out. How did she always know how to make any situation better? I didn't feel any less guilty but I did feel better.

_"I don't know how she kept it inside for so long, Liv. It has to have been strangling her."_

_"She only shared it now because she wanted to help Det. Taymore,"_  she whispered emphatically.

She confirmed what I had known from the start. She hadn't done this for herself…..God! They were so alike these two women. I can't help thinking back to last year's trial of Lewis in that moment, and remembering when I found out that Olivia had only found the strength to free herself when Luisa Nuñez was in danger. Or how she risked herself again to save Amelia Cole. And I recognized that as Rollins had, Olivia would refuse to break down in front of me. She would maintain some semblance of her composure as long as I bore witness.

Again my thoughts churned, uncontrolled in my head. Rubbing my face again I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

_"Liv,… where would she go?"_

She looked at me for a second before she shrugged her shoulders, trying to shrug off the emotion to concentrate, not so dissimilar to what I had just done myself.

 _"I don't know,"_  she whispered.

She raised her eyes up to meet mine and I could see she was hurting.

_"I think she probably just went home. It's late and she probably needs some time and space to process what just happened."_

I nod, the tiniest movement, but my head throbs.  _"What do we do now?"_  I ask.

All of a sudden she looks exhausted. As if the events of the last year and a half have finally all coming crashing down on her. Now it's her turn to rub her face.

_"We leave her…."_

I think about answering, saying no! But then I realize she is right. Rollins needs time to process. She wouldn't want to be coddled. And what is the alternative? An awkward phone call or text offering to be there, saying sorry or asking inane questions? A flash of memory surprises me as I think back on all the times Liv told me she was 'fine' when I tried to enquire about her mindset after particularly bad days during Lewis' aftermath and trial. Asking if someone is ok, in circumstances like these, no matter how cleverly phrased to exclude the word 'ok', is just absurd. She's right, it's only a few hours until we have to be in court. We'll see her then.

In that moment I also realize that I know how I need to deal with her tomorrow. I need to be professional. Not cold, as I know some people see me but,  **professional**. For her, and for me.

I look back at Olivia to see her looking at me, as if she can read the thoughts swirling around unanchored in my head.

_"You know you did the right thing for me…. With Lewis."_

I'm sure I look shocked. How did she know what I was thinking? And I don't think she has ever brought up the subject without a lot of coaxing. I know to stay quiet, to not do anything to distract from what she  **needs**  to say.

 _"You were in my corner, but you didn't make it harder by making it any more emotional. I knew you were upset and horrified by what he did,_ _but you didn't constantly ask was I ok. You trusted me. You helped. Helping doesn't always mean big emotional heart to hearts. Sometimes_ _silent support is worth more than everything else"_

I look away for a second, trying to make sure my eyes don't give me away. I reach out to put my hand on her arm and smile tightly in response. The lump in my throat would block all speech even if my brain were capable of formulating an answer.

_"Trust yourself, Rafael. And don't worry about your reaction… You are a good man. "_

She starts to stand up and moves over to her desk leaning on it as she turns back to face me,  _"What does this do to the case against Patton?"_

I feel back on more solid ground now, as I pull a file out of my briefcase….

 _"If she is allowed testify it can only strengthen our case. There are so many similarities…. Which is why I can't see her testimony being_ _allowed…."_

She frowns a little but before she can speak I continue…..

_"I will fight to allow her to be heard but with no Molyneaux hearing and the fact it wasn't reported at the time…"_

She has to know that there is no judgement or implied blame in this statement. She knows me well enough by now to know I understand…doesn't she?

_"I know you will fight for her, Counselor."_


	3. I will fight to allow her to be heard

_"I will fight to allow her to be heard, but with no Molyneaux hearing and the fact it wasn't reported at the time…"_

She has to know that there is no judgement or implied blame in this statement. Olivia knows me well enough by now to know I understand…doesn't she?

_"I know you will fight for her, Counselor."_

The relief at these simple words is immeasurable. These eight words, this short sentence says more than an avalanche of words.

She knows that I care.

She understands it will be a fight.

She knows I wasn't trying to judge Rollins for not reporting at the time. 

She sees my truth and acknowledges it in these reassuring utterances.

She trusts me.

I feel like a teenager. Like I could take on the world…and **win**. My head, that minutes ago, was throbbing is now filled with a euphoria even the drunken excesses of my younger days cannot rival. My face starts to lighten as for a second, the day's agony starts to dissolve away 

And then I look back at her….

She is strikingly beautiful, but she looks haunted. Her face is pale.

When she swallows, it's like she is trying to swallow a rock. The wetness still shimmers in her eyes but she holds it back resolutely. She seems somehow, distanced, like her head isn't occupying the same reality as her body.

I look at her more closely…. Usually any more than a casual glance in her direction draws an immediate questioning look, but now she is oblivious to my examining stare. She doesn't look like….herself. Her eyes don't look right… the light is gone. They aren't glassy. This isn't a flashback…. In that instant, her breathing stutters a little. Suddenly it all slots into place for me….she is struggling with the emotions…whether it's the demons of Lewis or Patton and Amanda, I can't say. Probably a combination of both…..

She won't 'let go', she won't allow the emotions rampage unchecked until I leave… 

The short-lived euphoria is gone immediately. And in it's place lie dread and exhaustion.

**Leave, Rafael. Now.**

_"I'm sorry Liv, but I need to go finish some paperwork. I need to review my question trees to allow for Rollins' testimony. I won't be sleeping tonight….."_ I announce as I quickly gather my belongings that have somehow found themselves scattered all over this side of the office.

I feel rather than hear her muttered agreement, _"neither will I"_ , to my recognition that sleep will not come tonight, as I stride out of her office. As I release the door to slide back into its frame, I hear a slight squeak escape her as she starts to sag into her chair, slowly turning it's back to the squad room.

I force myself to keep walking straight back out to my car. Not even looking around, to confirm Rollins hasn't returned.

I battle with my briefcase, files, jacket and god only knows what else, to get my key out.….To unlock the door…. I launch everything at the passenger seat, not caring how it lands. My usual precision obliterated, I just want it all in the car so I can slump in after it.

As I clamber into the driver's seat, I recognize that maybe I have been refusing to 'let go' too… I didn't do it consciously. Did I?

My back hits the seat and my head drops to rest squarely in the center of the steering wheel. My hands curling around its molded outer ring, clasping and unclasping, in time to my own ragged breathing, my knuckles white...

Oh god! If this is how I'm responding to this situation, how is Liv? The temptation to go back up, to check on her, to hold her and let her sob her hurt away is nearly overwhelming. I know I can't though. I know she wouldn't want me to. Perhaps more upsetting to my fragile ego, **she** **doesn't need me to.**  

I consciously relax, putting my head back against the headrest, laying my open hands on knees. I take long gentle deep breaths. The tornado still ravages on in my head, but I try to calm my body and breathing.

My excuses for leaving Liv's office were all valid. I do need to do all those things. Should I head back to the office or home?

Even this simple decision doesn't come easy, I dither for a few more minutes until the lure of a shower and a scotch before I start to work is undeniable.

Again, my brain smashes me with another damning insight. I want a shower. I want to wash away the day, the obscenity of what Patton did, feels like it is clinging to my clothes. At this thought I lose the battle with my emotions and cannot stop a few tears leaking out, as I grasp that this gives me only the tiniest inkling of how Rollins feels…

Liv said that when she first started in SVU here, she told her that _'something had happened that wasn't worth pursuing'_. She can't have meant this, can she? How can she not know that this is worth pursuing, **she** is worth the struggle. Whether she can testify or not, I, no we, need to make sure she understands she is believed and to tell her as many times as is necessary, that this **is** worth pursuing, **she** is worth the struggle. 

How can she survive this? How can anyone? The maelstrom of emotions that's battering me is incomprehensible. I can't begin to separate them into cohesive thoughts. The images of Patton hitting her, biting her, pushing her down, pulling at her clothes bombard my frazzled mind. I can't allow myself to picture him raping her. I don't even want to know how to build this picture….. And then it's all stopped in an instant, and the silence descends. 

 **THIS** is what Olivia meant when she said she didn't want these type of images in my head, in anyone's head, when I questioned her reluctance to give me more detail as we prepared for Lewis' trial.

She wanted to protect me, us, from the cacophony, from the mental torture? Or was it because she was afraid I would see her differently? Somehow less? 

This gives me pause. I stop. Clearing my mind, I try to evaluate my roiling emotions…

**Do I see her differently WITH all the detailed images of what Lewis did to her?**

**Do I see her as any LESS?**

**How do I see her NOW?**

Even when it comes to my emotions I can't help my methodical, systematic approach. Whether it's nature or training, I analyze my three questions as carefully and honestly as I can. 

**Do I see her differently with all the detailed images of what Lewis did to her?**

I suppose my intuitive answer here is YES!

I want to say NO! I don't want to validate her anxieties. 

But I can't say no when every fiber of my soul insists I do see her differently. What she went through shouldn't change the way I see her, but I can't deny it does. She has been through so much…..I want to protect her. I don't want her to suffer for a second more. It's not that she can't protect herself. I am more than aware she is better able to protect herself than I am.

It's probably partly because of my feelings for her, but also human nature, I just don't want to see her hurt again.

I don't know if I would want to protect her if this hadn't happened.

Perhaps I only want to protect her now, because I know what can happen, what she needs to be protected from. It's not a fanciful, abstract concept I want to protect her from it's an alarming reality. The danger now further reinforced by what Rollins has endured at the hands of her superior,... a police officer. When even a police officer of such high rank can be unmasked as a predatory sexual offender, no, a **rapist** , how can

I not want to help Liv protect herself? This is not a reflection on her, it's a reflection on the world around us.

I don't want to 'see' these things happening to her, even if it's only my mental cobbling together of the details she shared. Those details that took root in my mind refusing to let me shake them loose..

I can't imagine for a second how she endured the unendurable?

How she survived the physical, sexual and emotional agony?

I don't ever want to be responsible for causing her anymore pain. She has had more than a lifetime's share.

**How do I see her now?**

**Incredibly** resilient. Strong. Tough. Beautiful. Intelligent. Compassionate.

And I realize I don't need to answer the last question, I already have answered it in the first two. **NO!** She is not any LESS because of her experiences. She is not broken, or wounded or any of those other words thrown around to describe VICTIMS. How can she be broken and be so strong? Wounded...Hmmm this is possibly true, she has been wounded. But then again, have I not just answered my own question….. again?

She **HAS** been. She is at the very least recovering...

I feel more at peace now.

I realize that merely as human beings, events such as Lewis for Olivia, or Patton for Amanda, may change how we see them. But it's not a negative change. It's because we hurt for them. We want to help. I see how easy it would be to let this get too far, to treat them as a different person altogether in an attempt to salve our own conscience, to heal their wounds or even to protect them. If we keep control of it though, it's a support mechanism for us and for them, to help us all recover. And when they protest against it, it is no more than stretching their muscles of independence, asserting their control again. It's our way of loving them, of coping, and trying to help. 

Amanda is going to be ok.

There's going to be some hard times ahead. 

She's going to hurt again, but maybe like an incorrectly knitting bone, it must first be re-broken to fix properly.

She is the same person. She is the same good detective. The same woman, maybe even stronger. It will just take time. 

Having stilled the storm inside for now, I turn the key and head home.

One of those hard times for Amanda, for all of them, will be tomorrow.

Regardless of whether she is allowed testify, she will need us.

I start to mentally reformulate my question trees as I shower.

As I pour myself a scotch I start to plan my arguments for getting her testimony included.

As the hours tick by, I have readjusted my plan of attack. I feel confident and prepared as I take my morning shower and dress for court.

The coffee machine that has hummed all night is refilled again and a light breakfast is consumed before I head to court.

Driving to work, I go through my checklist of things I need to do. Calls I need to return, emails to be answered, there are motions to be researched, written and submitted. I decide not to ask Liv's opinion on the rest of the squad, on whether they should be told or not? This is Rollins' decision. She understands that if she testifies, Fin and Amaro will hear it. If she wishes to tell them when the decision has been made on her testimony, that is her choice. She has had enough forced upon her, I won't allow this to be another thing she has no choice in. This is the **beginning** of her regaining her control.

Maybe she has already told them? She and Amaro are friends. Fin is her partner. 

They already know that something happened…..

It won't soften the reality but they will be there for her.

The same way they were there for Liv….. I don't think they were in the courtroom when Liv parceled out the horrific details of her four days with Lewis. I think they stayed away. I don't know whether she asked that they not go, or if they decided to respect her privacy and spare her the indignity of their presence. I can't believe Capt. Cragan didn't keep her statement and the DD5s as confidential as he could. Even when Lewis came back and used Amelia Cole to lure her away, I don't think the squad would have gotten **all** the details. They knew enough from other victims to know what he was capable of, his M.O., they didn't need the sordid detail.

They're good detectives... and good men. They are as protective as I am of their colleagues, maybe even more so…they will do right by Rollins.

I can't say I'm looking forward to the day. It will be emotional. It will be difficult. I'm starting to feel guilty in advance,... whether I have to ask horrible probing questions or tell her she can't testify, I know the guilt will come. 

I don't want to hear the details from her mouth again. It will hurt her and it will hurt me. It will hurt anyone who knows her.

The passing of the night has allowed me to center myself, to live it, to feel all of this, as I must. The emotional rollercoaster **will** restart. The maelstrom will hit again. I will feel hopeless. I can do all of this knowing that she **CAN** survive this. With all of us helping her, she **WILL** survive this. 

I will fight to let her be heard, to tell her story, to try and ensure her sacrifice protects others, to help her know she is believed and to tell her that this is worth pursuing, **she** is worth the struggle.

I take a deep breath and walk into the courthouse, repeating this quasi-mantra to myself, knowing that I have armored myself for the battle to come. I have slipped comfortably back into my work self, the tribulations of the last night left securely at home.

I nod my head making eye contact, hoping to communicate my silent support.

_"Good Morning Rollins"_


	4. This is worth pursuing, she is worth it

I will fight to let her be heard, to tell her story, to try and ensure her sacrifice protects others, to help her know she is believed and to tell her that this **is** worth pursuing, **she** is worth the struggle.

I take a deep breath and walk into the courthouse, repeating this quasi-mantra to myself, knowing that I have armored myself for the battle to come. I have slipped comfortably back into my work self, the tribulations of the last night left securely at home.

I nod my head making eye contact, hoping to communicate my silent support.

_"Good Morning Rollins"_

_"Morning Counselor"_ she returns quickly, her eyes barely glancing in my direction before they scuttled down to her silent phone. She clasps the phone, too tightly, as if it's her anchor to some safety. She tries to look busy with the phone while she bites her bottom lip. She looks, outwardly, as she always does. Then on further inspection, her shoulders hunch slightly, the pose reminiscent of a body used to violence, expecting a blow but trying to hide its' attempt to protect itself. Her downcast eyes can't hide the fresh redness, the black circles or the tiredness. Her foot is jiggling slightly, in an attempt to discharge the nervous apprehension I can sense from her.

As she realizes I haven't moved away, she chances a quick glance through the hair that partly obscures her face.

When I see her look me in the eye uncomfortably, I gently whisper _"I will fight to let you be heard"._

Her eyes plummet to the floor. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, as she considers this….

Her eyes shoot up to mine, then plunge back to the floor.

Her breath hitches expectantly, as if to speak, before thinking better of it. Her nose scrunches up as only she can, she chews her lip and decides to just tightly nod.

_"You know where I am…."_ I risk before I exaggeratedly check my watch, mutter something about the time and continue into the courtroom.

I start to lay out my things on the table, files, notes, reminders…all in the order I expect to need them, when a hand gently touches my shoulder….

_"Sergeant…."_ I nod over my shoulder in greeting.

_"Counselor"_ she responds, with the tiniest flicker of a smile as I stand and turn towards her.

_"Have you seen her yet?"_ she continues quietly.

_"Yes"_ I admit, taking a second to consider our exchange only minutes before.

_"She looks tired and a little on edge"_ I answer to Benson's silent question. The implication between us is that she whilst she clearly didn't sleep and is nervous, she is composed, ostensibly 'keeping it together'.

_"Hmmmmm"_ is my response as we both consider where she is now and deliberate our imminent meeting.

For a second we both slip into the memories of last evening. Our eyes drawn unconsciously to the stand… the creaking of the opening doors pulls us back to today, to now, as Rollins enters.

_"Sergeant. Counselor."_ She says as soon as she is close enough. _"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was planning on doing…."_ Strangely a small chuckle escapes her mouth, _"Actually, I couldn't tell you because I **didn't** plan it"._

Somehow this admission breaks the awkwardness that had enveloped us.

_"Amanda. **I'm** sorry. Sorry for what Patton put you through, that you had no one to help you, at the time, in Atlanta."_ She stops deliberately. Ducking her head low to one side and searching her out behind the curtain of blonde hair, she pulls Rollins eyes back up from the floor with the movement of her head and holds her gaze.

_"That is not the case anymore."_ She shares slowly, wanting her words to land, to not get brushed off by the hurt woman. _"I,… We, are here for you"_ she immediately amends gesturing to me. Rollins' eyes follow the direction of Olivia's hand, meeting my eyes long enough to allow me yet another nod. It feels like all I have done today is nod. God, I hope all these nods with their very different meanings are distinguishable outside of my head. I try to imbue this nod with my support, my sorrow, my wish to help and twenty other feelings I can't put into words….. I stay silent, allowing Olivia to speak, knowing she will say what is needed so much better than I ever could.

In any other situation, to allow someone to speak for me would be unthinkable, but here, now it feels like the most natural thing to do.

_"We want to listen, to help, in anyway we can. Amanda, you are not alone. Barba will fight to get your testimony admitted, but know that we **HEAR** you. We **BELIEVE** you. Regardless of the outcome here…."_ She gestures towards the bench idly, _"We are here for you. The boys will be too…"_ she dwindles off questioningly.

Rollins looks confused, embarrassed and slightly unbelievingly, at the floor while Olivia voices these truths, until she mentions Fin and Amaro, then her face contorts in horror, her mouth falling open, the word _"NO"_ tumbling out…

Olivia reaches her hand out to gently grasp her arm, careful to allow Amanda to watch its journey. _"Amanda. It's ok. I'm not going to tell them. They know enough unless YOU want to tell them more. It's your choice. I won't take it away. You have to know that they just want to help you. They understand…they don't…. **judge** …. **I know.** "_

Amanda sniffles softly, nodding in gratitude as she turns away to take a seat.

Olivia's phone summons her temporarily outside, before she returns to claim a seat in the back, Nick sitting with her, Fin with his partner.

I have only a moment to reflect on the incredible grace, and honesty I just had the honor of witnessing. I was astounded by Olivia's perfect words. Their simplicity, belying their profundity. And the final detail, the gentle reminder, she **does** understand. I'm reminded how much I wish she didn't understand. I wish neither of them had to go through this. I saw Rollins' face as she said that. She understood how hard it was for Liv to make this tiny admission. She knows that Liv never references Lewis. Never. It’s too hard, even a year after her trial, 18 months after the events, it's too difficult. She only found the strength to allude to her own agony to help someone else.

I am completely in awe of this woman. Of both of these women… Amanda came in and faced us both together. In advance of perhaps testifying in open court, in front of her peers, about her long denied rape, she found the strength to come talk to her boss and ADA. It is something I can only aspire to.

I fix my tie knowingly, pulling my head back into the trial, straightening my paperwork, even more determined.

As we approach the bench at the judge's behest, the defense is already objecting.

_" …..wasn't on the prosecution's list"_

_"…been sitting in on testimony"_

_"…no molyneaux hearing…"_

I interject that _"prior bad acts are admissible when they speak clearly to pattern."_

I look pleadingly at her. She looks a little more carefully at the paper in her hand…oh please….even if she later rules it stricken from the record, please let her just be heard…..

_“….. she'll be testifying to an unsubstantiated allegation, which was never reported, no charges were ever filed….."_ the defense continues…

She doesn't look impressed as my 'colleague' snorts _"you can't be serious"_. She looks and leans slightly towards me and starts

_"….having read the summary text of this witness' testimony, it is my ruling…”_

I can't help my mouth gaping a little, my eyes fixed on her, my heart is beating so loud I can barely hear her words…..

_" it would be more prejudicial than probative, I will **not** allow this witness to testify"._

I can barely keep my composure as she delivers this dreaded but not entirely unexpected result. I barely mutter a hoarse _"the prosecution rests"_ , shaking my head in answer to her question, worried my voice is not capable of making itself understood.

**Dammit!**

**You failed again Rafael.**

I really knew when I heard her testimony in prep, it wouldn't be allowed, but I so desperately wanted to help have her voice heard…

The guilt is crushing.

And now I have to tell **her**. Oh god!

I need Liv to be there. This failure, my failure is going to devastate her. I need help….I don't know how to do this alone.

I am slow in leaving the bench, anxiously trying to postpone the inevitable.

I stagger out to the hallway, hugely grateful to find Olivia with Rollins. One look at my gutted face and Olivia saves me the need to find the words, whispering _"she said no"._

I just nodded again, and Rollins stalks towards me.

_"After all that, she won't let me testify."_ Her anger is tinged with relief and I'm almost grateful for her reaction.

_"It was always a long shot…"_ I try to explain.

_"So what happens next?"_ asks Olivia.

And I owe her a debt of gratitude for saving me again. Those four words turn the conversation from concentrating on a loss to striving towards victory again.

_"My bet, Patton takes the stand. It's a 'he said - she said…. He's got to say something….."_ I turn intentionally to Rollins at this point, _"…And I'll get him"._

I have every intention of **keeping** this promise. I will not let him walk. If I need to make a deal, I will, but he will not escape justice. Her face falling and the looks of barely concealed disgust, outrage, disbelief and disappointment are seared into my essence…..

Patton, true to my prediction takes the stand and I disregard the majority of his excuses, his play-to-the crowd apologies to his wife and Atlanta PD, all his calculating BS just floats by me.

I listen intently for anything I can use…

I try not to picture Rollins. Or Olivia. I'm glad now that they are all behind me so I don't have to see their expressions of disappointment.

WAIT! THERE! THAT! That may be enough. If I don't jump on it too quick, too eagerly….. Let him almost forget he said it…..

With a sense of renewed hope I start my cross-examination gently. Asking about his alleged consensual affair

with Det. Taymore…remembering how he had slipped up telling this story to Chief Dobbs….

_"You said that you would never harm a woman…..does that include any other young blonde subordinates you've mentored?"_

I say it calmly hoping he doesn't see it for what it is, that his arrogance won't let him see it….. I stand back turning slightly, leading his gaze towards Rollins in the public gallery.

His lawyer jumps up objecting, but….. the judge sustains it but….

_"Are you talking about Amanda Rollins?" he spits out indignantly. "I didn't rape her. Or that other girl. Or any of them. That's what they say when they don't get what they want….."_

**YES!** He said it….maybe now he has opened the door…..

My entire focus has contracted down, to only this exchange. Nothing else exists.

I need to make him feel more comfortable, go back to the 'safe' subject of his wife, lull him into a false sense of security, then twist it, make it about Det. Taymore….pick at his story…...

Good! He's losing his temper.

This is working…..

Something isn't right…

**NO!** Is he having a heart attack?

No this can't be happening!

I was beginning to get somewhere...

This is what I mean about not all wins in SVU are cause for celebration.

I didn't **lose**.

I just don't think I **won** either.

He will plead to sexual abuse in the third degree. He will go onto the sexual offenders register, he will leave the police force, not seek out any other work in law enforcement, and even allocute to the offence in court, but is it enough?

I ask myself these questions as we sit in the courtroom for the last time. The deal is nearly done. All we need now is for it to go on record.

I specified the allocution as one of the terms, in the hope that somehow it will bring Rollins some closure.

Maybe to hear him admit to a sexual assault will help her move forward…. Maybe it has as much power as a jury finding him guilty, because he can't dispute his actions when he has to say the words, admit to what he did ...…

Liv isn't present in court today. She wanted to but can't be here. I understand and I know Rollins does too.

Rollins sits directly behind me, with Fin and Amaro, one on each side of her, Chief Dodds and Det. Taymore behind them.

_"Deputy Chief Patton, your lawyer tells me you would like to plead guilty to sexual abuse in the third degree, is that correct?"_

_"Yes your Honor"_

_"Do you make this plea knowingly and voluntarily?"_

_"I do"_

_"Has anyone induced you or in anyway coerced you into pleading guilty?"_

_"No"_

_"You engaged in sexual intercourse with Det. Reese Taymore, as named in the indictment against you. And Det. Taymore did not consent to that sexual contact, is that correct?"_

_"Yes"_

_"I accept your plea, Deputy Chief."_

I let out a breath, I hadn't realized I was holding…All that is left is to ask if he wants to say anything. I wordlessly hope that he makes apologies to both Det. Taymore and Rollins. Makes some acknowledgment of the wrong he did….

I can't help but look to him as the judge poses this question….

He looks from Rollins to Det. Taymore as he seems to ponder this question…

He turns forward again, _"No your Honor"_.

My heart sinks again even though it was expected.

Rollins says _"its over"._ She seemed to be glad he didn't escape completely, even though he won't go to jail.

I don't know if she feels betrayed by the system? By me?

I don't really know how she feels; she doesn't like to show her emotions. Maybe she has so many things swirling around inside her, it is impossible for her to **feel** anything.

I know Liv tried to talk to her. To try to urge her to talk to a therapist, to 'free' herself after five years of suffering, and I hope she will. She deserves peace and happiness.

Attempting to emulate Liv's style, the only thing I said after the plea was accepted was, _"My door is always open, Detective. Anything I can do…."._ I tried to make eye contact so she knew I meant it…..I think a similar approach worked for Liv. I hope even the knowledge that she has people who want to help, may comfort her.

Sometimes I wish I were a different type of person, one who knows how to start a conversation like that.

Someone who could tell Liv how amazing she is and how I feel about her….

It's over, but I still have a lot to process after this trial. There'll be a lot of sleepless nights. There's a lot of re-evaluating to be done.

I have never felt more like part of the team than I do now but I understand that I need to lower my boundaries and let people in. I need to try a lot harder to help keep them safe.

I still feel guilt about Rollins though, I know I couldn't stop her rape but I wish I could have done more….

It was **me** who pushed her at every turn to tell me about her dealings with Patton.

It was **me** who pushed her to prepare her testimony. If her testimony hadn't been so damning… If I hadn't known its full content and I let her testify without preparing, her realization and admission would have been on record.

**I** pushed her to understand that she wasn't assaulted she was raped.

**I** told her it that this was all necessary…..


	5. How did I end up here?

How did I end up here?

Amanda, what are you doing?

I never planned on taking this time off…

I was just going to keep going as I had been….

I had made it through the trial….

I told Liv I was _"ok"_ , but I found that after the trial was stopped and the plea was being prepared, I had nothing left to focus on. I had nothing left to do to keep it all at bay.

I know everyone meant well but I couldn't cope with this and be looked at with pity and doubt.

I decided to do what has always worked for me, I took time off and I ran away.

I now find myself here, on a yoga-retreat desperately searching for the 'inner peace' the online brochure promised, but it has been elusive.

Fin has been texting and calling. I know he cares. I never said the words to him, but he knows. I think he knew before I really did. The way he came looking for me in the bar after he heard Dodds interview Patton, asking _, "I want you to tell me what went on between you and Patton?"_ , he knew something. Sometimes I can talk to him, and I do, a little anyways, but I can't tell him everything. I need him to trust me. He needs to know I can handle myself, and that he doesn't need to worry about me, I can do my job.

He doesn't need to know that it feels like I'm drowning in the quicksand of my own thoughts. None of them do.

Even after everything, Nick has been calling, and I definitely don't deserve that. I don't know what he knows. He keeps telling me he's there if I want anything, but I don't know what he thinks happened. He's as perceptive as the others. He was sober in the bar when I drunkenly railed against how we forced Paula Martin to become a victim by sending the case forward to prosecution. Goading him, trying to force him to admit I don't know what. Roaring, _"some of us don't want to be victims"_. I ruined whatever was between us that night. He won't have forgotten those words. He didn't understand the venomous words then, so he won't have forgotten them. He tried to ask me about my reaction to _"the good old boys",_ even before Reese was assaulted, and he heard what Patton implied when Dodds interviewed him. When we heard about Reese's assault he asked astutely, _"Hey, you know Patton, is he good for this?"._

Even after all of this they keep calling.

I don't deserve any of them.

So I find myself here, in a nice hotel, lying in another foreign bed trying to stop my brain from starting its grueling nightly torture marathon.

Somehow the nights are the worst. It's like the self-doubt I can keep in the shadows during daylight swallows me whole, when the light fades into evening.

It feels strange to be suffocated by an event I remember so clearly in some ways and so unclearly in others. I clearly remember everything I confessed to Barba….but some bits are missing.

I don't remember what he was wearing but I do remember my clothes. I never wore them again, even those that weren't ripped or marked all went into the trash. They were tainted beyond fixing.

I remember every detail of the picture on the wall I stared at while he…..while he did it. But I don't remember the color of the motel bed.

It's as if the passage of time has started to blur the edges of my mental pictures like ageing photos but the feelings are still there in full force, if I let them in, as strong as I felt them that night.

I remember lying down stiffly on the bed, nerves bubbling at what I had agreed to. I was more nervous then, than the first time, all those years ago, I had ever approached the physical act. I remember the first feel of his hands on me, pawing at me, his calloused hands stroking, ineptly pulling at my clothes.

My delicate black lace top ripping as he yanked it. His drunken breath on my face as he tugged my pants open. His clumsy movements as black denim was dragged down my legs, and kicked to the floor. My remorse at having consented to this, now bubbling to the fore, a signal to the ever-growing queasiness rumbling through my stomach, as my scared little voice asked him to _"slow down"._ Then, a stinging, followed by a dull ache on my left cheek and jaw as he slapped me. Quickly followed by the pinch and sharp pressure of his teeth on my neck, then the dizziness and sudden pain that accompanied the thud of my head on the headboard. I remember my voice pleading, _"no"_ , as I strained to get out from under him. I can still feel the blood, hot and sticky, oozing from my head sullying the sheets. The terror when he said, _"Amanda, you know I don't take 'No' for an answer"_. I remember how my wrists burned from the friction of me trying to pull them out of his grasp, pushing against him frantically, as I realized he wasn't going to stop. I fought with every muscle and sinew at my command, to push him off me, to get up off that bed. I remember my muscles protesting angrily as my arms were twisted up above my head instead. How I got one arm free for a second, only to be punished with another slap that smacked my head against the headboard again, lighting up my whole head, an explosion of white light pushing from the inside out, blinding me, deafening me, only to recede away into an eerie darkness.

Immediately to be shaken from the comforting blackness by him telling me I wasn't _"going anywhere"_ as my free hand was recaptured and heaved up above my head to join its twin. I can't forget how he pulled my two hands together seizing both wrists in his one hand, his weight pinning them, my shoulders screaming for relief, my burning wrists twisting uselessly in his grip. I can't forget his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he lifted his body to open and push down his pants. I could hear my voice saying _"no"_ so many times the word lost all meaning. I cannot forget the feel of his free hand roaming my skin, squeezing, twisting, as he told me _"no-one would believe you anyway"._ The sound of my own blood pounding in my ears as I felt his naked erection against my thigh, was thunderous. As IT got closer to where he wanted it, my panic became so intense it was as if a switch flipped in my mind. All my small struggles stopped. My body stopped responding to my screeching mind. My only struggles now, my sobbing and my constantly mouthed _"no"._ I found myself lying uselessly still, as he swiped my legs further apart with his knee, my hips wrenched unnaturally, he settled himself between my outstretched legs. I remember the never ending streams of tears as he found his mark,…..then the burning, tearing, agony as he pushed….. _"NO"._

I can feel this as if he were in this room now. It feels so real I look down expecting to see the bruises, the cuts, the marks, littering my skin. I can feel it happen, but it still disturbs me the things time has dimmed, sometimes to nothingness. How can I not remember what he said after? Or how I found my clothes to be back on me? Or what he was wearing? I remember the rough scrape of denim against my bare legs, so he must have been wearing jeans but

I don't see them. I don't remember buttons digging into my front so was he not wearing a buttoned shirt? What color were the walls? Why do the feelings not dim with the silly detail?

Even **after** , it's the feelings I remember. The need to not be naked, the penetrating vulnerability of this state, too much, even when he was gone from the room. I remember the cloying feeling of filth on my skin, even after I had showered and dressed.

I remember the sensation of the water pummeling me as I showered, my sore, used, body reveling in its soothing heat while my mind sunk deeper into its abyss of wretchedness. The stinging of the soap I scoured into my aching body to cleanse myself of him, of what **I** had allowed him to do. The pain of the soft towel scraping my reddened, abused, body dry. But then I just seemed to magically be clothed. How do I not remember dressing?

I have no memory of him dressing, speaking, of him leaving. My last memory of him on that night, is of him pulling **IT** out of me, the trail of my blood and his enjoyment marking the bed sheets, further spreading the filth that contaminated my whole being. His hand releasing my wrists from their imprisonment, then his body crawling off me as his weight no longer pinned me to the ruined sheets. I lay there unmoving, the screaming of my battered body not enough to counter the anguish of my mind.

It would be bad enough if these were the thoughts that filled my nights, and prevented me from sleeping until exhaustion claimed my body, switching then to torturing my short, unsatisfying sleep.

But they are not what haunt my waking and sleeping mind. Those feelings are even more nefarious, more perverse. It's like what happened with Patton isn't really the problem anymore. In an odd way what he did to me isn't important. **I** put myself in this position. **I** allowed it to happen. I don't deserve to say I was raped, because **I** invited this incident. It was easier to spend five years believing nothing really happened because the alternative is worse. The alternative means that something did happen and **I** can't protect myself from exactly what I am paid to prevent. **I** was so naïve that I didn't even think for a second, that I wouldn't be able to control the situation. The alternative means that I am worth so little that no one, including me, thought what I suffered was worth pursuing. It means that I have betrayed every victim I have ever encouraged, persuaded and cajoled into filing charges against their attacker. I am a hypocrite. I am weak.

I have allowed one night's misadventure to ruin my life. I nearly gambled my way out of my career. I can't trust anyone, even when they consistently give me every reason to trust. I either completely cut myself off from men, from sex, or I stumble blindly from one unfulfilling sex-capade to the next. Never letting them in, never letting them last for long enough to have to call it a relationship, to have to open up. I can't truly open myself up to anyone, because if I can so badly misjudge Patton's intentions, I evidently, am no judge of character. I just thought he wanted to leverage my sister's situation, for an easy night's extra marital sex. I didn't see the predator.

Oh god, I shouldn't even be a sex crimes detective if I can't see that even if that were **all** that he was doing, that alone would make him a predator.

Amanda, where is your judgment?

I wish I could be like Olivia. She went through so much worse with Lewis. She has scars. She had a broken wrist. She fought for herself. Even dehydrated, drugged, starved and tortured she fought. Maybe if I had fought like she did it wouldn't have happened.

Don't be so stupid, Amanda, Olivia would never be stupid enough to have been in that situation to start with.

I wish I could be like Olivia, but I'm not, I'm just broken, easy, stupid Amanda Rollins.

She tried to help me even when she knew how stupid I had been.

_"Amanda. I'm sorry. Sorry for what Patton put you through, that you had no one to help you, at the time, in Atlanta. We are here for you. We want to listen, to help, in anyway we can. Amanda, you are not alone. Barba will fight to get your testimony admitted, but know that we HEAR you. We BELIEVE you. Regardless of the outcome here, we are here for you. The boys will be too…_

_Amanda. It's ok. I'm not going to tell them. They know enough unless YOU want to tell them more. It's your choice. I won't take it away. You have to know that they just want to help you. They understand…they don't….judge…. I know."_

I couldn't have spoken if I had tried. She had heard my shame and hadn't found me disgusting. And for a short second I felt valued, safe. I replay this conversation so often in my head…... She had only compassion for me, not pity or judgment.

But then I can't help replaying our conversation in her office after the trial was stopped…..

_"Amanda, what Patton did to you, you've been pushing down for years and if you don't deal with this now, it's going to keep you trapped,… or stuck more than it already has."_

_"Ok"_

_"You have an opportunity here"_

I know she was only trying to help. Why did I open my stupid mouth?

_"I've gone through it…..You're only as sick as your secrets and….And, I'm going to meetings"_

_"yeah, for gambling…"_

This barbed response reminds me how I'd already let her down so much that she wouldn't have kept me on the squad if she hadn't been so short staffed.

That she didn't trust me. What was I thinking? Do I want to lose my job here, with the only people who have ever really cared for me?

_"I know you don't like feeling sorry for yourself, I get it, but can you go back to that detective that you were five years ago and feel compassion for her?"_

_"I walked into it,….you know, I put myself into that position…"_

That's why she was so nice to me, she doesn't understand.

_"You gotta stop blaming yourself. Amanda you can move past this"_

_"I'm ok"_

_"Look I know that you think that therapy is paying someone to talk about your problems….."_

Why the hell did I ever say that to her? I said it in the heat of the moment in a fit of jealousy. After all she had been through she was still…whole.

_"I shouldn't have said that…"_

_"Then make it up to me…."_

She wanted me to go speak to her therapist.

How could I do that? I got as far as the waiting room before I realized how bad an idea it was. He knows all of her secrets; he would probably have thrown me out of his office when he compared my shit to her. I wouldn't even deserve his help. Or worse, he would recognize how broken and hopeless I am.

I didn't need to see the look of disappointment I knew followed me out that door.

It feels like I can never get out from under this. It's like five years later I am still lying under his body, trapped. How can I feel compassion for the idiot that put herself there?

Hell, even the court didn't validate me. I know I left it late, but I wasn't even worth the jury's time to listen to, not even to evaluate how my experience corroborates Reese's assault.

How did I get to this point again? Why did I let it all come out? If I had been stronger, I wouldn't have reacted. I wouldn't have invited all of these questions and I wouldn't ever have sat on the stand prepping with Barba. I would never have said those words….

He. Raped. Me.


	6. I would never have said those words

It feels like I can never get out from under this. It's like five years later I am still lying under his body, trapped. How can I feel compassion for the idiot that put herself there?

Hell, even the court didn't validate me. I know I left it late, but I wasn't even worth the jury's time to listen to, not even to evaluate how my experience corroborates Reese's assault.

How did I get to this point again? Why did I let it all come out? If I had been stronger, I wouldn't have reacted. I wouldn't have invited all of these questions and I wouldn't ever have sat on the stand prepping with Barba. I would never have said those words...

He. Raped. Me.

Barba. I can barely even look at him now. He has been so amazingly, undeservedly good to me. I can't help wondering if his gentle questions pushed me to admit what really happened? I will never be able to thank him enough for how he treated me, when it all slipped out. How he behaved towards me the whole way through the trial and plea deal was so much more than I deserved or could ever hope for.

I had never really appreciated why Liv has become such good friends with him. I never thought I'd ever tell anyone. But of everyone, I would never have thought he would be the one to whom I would choose to disclose my deepest shame. I thought he was cold, aloof, arrogant, full of himself and a little obnoxious at first. Then as we got to know him a little more, I was always impressed at his passion for our victims. How he really cared. I guess I had to experience that care first hand to understand him properly.

He knew I was uncomfortable on the stand even for prep. I thought he would snap at me when I asked did we really need to prep at all, but he didn't, he could see the difference between testifying as I usually do and what happened with Patton. He listened, letting me tell my story, only prompting me gently to continue when it started to get too difficult. I expected to be peppered by tetchy questions, to be interrupted every few words with _"only the facts,_ _Detective"_ or _"not relevant",_ but he was so gentle. I could see his face tense and see his upset as my story started to stumble out of my lips but I could feel he was upset **for** me. He reacted exactly how I would want when the words finally slipped out, he kept eye contact, he wasn't disgusted, he didn't look away. He showed his distress but didn't try to placate me, or handle me, or comfort me. He allowed me my dignity. He didn't make a scene. He trusted me.

The next day he didn't treat me any different. He didn't make me feel incompetent or stupid. He treated me professionally but still found a way to whisper  _"I will fight to let you be heard"._ I don't think it is even remotely possible to explain what this meant to me. Those words all at once communicated, support, belief, understanding and caring. And a couple of times he said things such as _"My door is always open, Detective. Anything I can do..."_ and _"You know where I am..."._ Always quietly, unobtrusively, not pushing, just making his support known. I was surprised at his grace and unbelievably grateful.

I am so lucky. I don't know why or how, but Liv, Nick , Fin and Barba have just been much more than I deserved. They have all offered their help. Their support. I find myself wishing sometimes that I could take even one of them up on their offer even once but I need them to believe I can do my job. To not know how truly damaged and broken I really am.

My sorry truth is that I have nothing other than this job.

At some point in my life I switched off completely.

And now I find myself here in a hotel on vacation simultaneously wanting to be back at work and dreading having to go back. When I am at work I can delude myself that I am making a difference, or at least, that I am trying to help people. Even when just doing my job hurts me. I can somehow distance my past from their suffering. The people we try to get justice for are real victims. They are un-deserving of what happened to them. I can sometimes feel the sensations they describe as they relive the assault for us to take their statement but I am not like them.

I am also dreading going back. Knowing the looks Olivia endured after her kidnapping, I don't think I can face everyone knowing. Knowing how stupid and naive I was. Knowing how I betrayed all the victims we have encouraged, convinced and cajoled to testify by doing the exact opposite thing that I should have. Knowing my shame.

I feel so stupid for not even properly realizing what had happened. I mean, I knew immediately that he had forced me, I had said no, I had fought him, he hadn't listened….I know that is a pretty text book description of rape, how did I not manage to acknowledge it? Somehow it felt better to be able to cling to saying that _"he just took advantage of a bad situation I put myself in"._ It had a more palatable sound. It sounded like a more honest assessment of the situation. It acknowledged my collusion in what had happened. Somehow this minimization made me feel better. Now all I feel is guilt, guilt at how I allowed him to do this again, and emptiness.

There is a huge part of me missing. I don't know how long it has been gone. Did I lose it when those words tumbled out to Barba or was it gone years before then? It feels like a part of who I am has just been scooped out. Maybe in an attempt to be able to work, to take the opportunities I was presented with, I had to switch off some of the feelings that would have prevented me from doing the job I needed to do. The only way to take the risks necessary to do the job meant I didn't allow myself to feel. How could I have played bait for a couple of rapists in uniform when Cassidy was undercover if I could feel the paralyzing fear? How do you trust your life to men you barely know if you are worrying whether one of them is watching your ass instead of your back, and won't take 'no' for an answer? How can you work on a one-on-one basis with men when you worry that given the chance they will hurt you? How do you trust the chain of command when you have been betrayed by it? Feeling it just wasn't an option.

Even now, everyone knows and I somehow can't allow myself to feel it, because if I start to feel it I don't know if I can stop it again. I don't know if I can feel all of this and work, and if I can't work, I can't get through this. I have nothing else. Maybe I have lost the ability to feel it anymore.

I don't trust my own judgment.

I know Fin would never hurt me, he came looking for me and pushed to know what had happened between me and Patton when he thought I had been hurt. I know that even when I pushed Nick beyond his limits, he chose to walk away rather than even speak to me the wrong way. He would never hurt me. I saw Barba's anguish as I told him what had happened, I know he wouldn't hurt me. But somehow behind all that knowledge there still exists a fear. An unnecessary, unfounded, unjustified, unfair fear. A fear I can't really control. I can't open myself up just in case I am somehow wrong. Somehow trusting them to stop me from getting shot or stabbed is easier then trusting them not to **really** hurt me.

It feels like this all happened so long ago I don't have any right to be too upset it. But then it also feels like it all happened yesterday. Seeing Patton back in Atlanta when we went to get the rape kits for the Pattern Seventeen case brought it all flooding back. In the moment I first saw him it felt like the intervening years hadn't happened. My stomach simultaneously dropped through my feet and leapt into my throat. I was sweating and somehow cold. The dizziness and confusion muddling my mind as I tried not to react visibly to his presence but being completely unable to stop the visceral reactions my body was having. The fact that he did nothing particularly threatening or inappropriate did nothing to change the fact that his mere presence had completely undone me. Even after all this time. Fear overtook my rational mind, despite the safe proximity of my partner.

I can't even begin to explain my reaction when I heard what had happened to Reese. I was nearly jealous of her at the conference. She was what I had been. She was in control and nowhere near as stupid as I had been. And then….I knew as soon as I heard Fin say she had been attacked in her hotel. The creeping sickness started to crawl through me. Its spread unstoppable until I couldn't stay in her hospital room and hear her say the words I knew would be coming. The fear overwhelming me completely, I ran out struggling to hold back the incapacitating rage and guilt. Failing miserably, I just dissolved into a puddle of tears and anguish in the corridor. Even during the investigation, when asked about Patton numerous times, I didn't speak up. I didn't help her.

I hid my shame, only considering my own selfish skin.

To my eternal shame I even told Fin she'd go home and get over it. As if it wasn't important. I was too wrapped up in myself to even consider how disgraceful this comment was, especially when you consider it was coming from a special victims detective. I'm glad now I didn't see Fin's face when I said that. I can only imagine the disgust and hate he must have felt. I don't know how he controlled his anger, all he said was _"like you did"._ I avoided his eye as I drunkenly admitted _" if you pretend long enough, it's like nothing did happen."_ As I realized what had slipped out of my mouth I stole a quick glance at him, his brow was furrowed and his face tensed. He persuaded me to at least tell Barba that _"Patton was capable"_ but will he ever really be able to forgive me?

I keep thinking about what Olivia said, that this is an opportunity to get out from under what happened. That I can move past it. I don't think I can. I think that she doesn't understand that I did this to myself. I don't have her strength.

He is no longer really a threat to anyone. His mask has been torn off and his real face shown to all. He admitted to assaulting, if not raping, Reese. He no longer holds a position of authority in the police force. This is all more than I initially hoped for. Reese was incredible. She would not allow him to continue on his merry way to his next victim as I had done. She was right when she said that. She risked everything for not just her own good but for the safety of those that come after her.

My testimony was not allowed.

I don't really know yet how I feel about that. I know Barba fought for me as much as he could. I think he understood that I needed to help, even if it was too late. I think I'm relieved that I didn't have to tell my colleagues the details of my experience from the stand. It feels like even though they know, I still have the control of how much detail they have. I don't want them to know that I was already partly naked when he stopped listening to my wishes. They don't need to know that I hardly had any injuries to show for my fight or that when I should have started fighting with everything I had that, my body refused to respond to my brain and that I lay there unmoving while he pushed into me. They don't need to know how I showered immediately with no regard for the evidence I was destroying; too intent on cleansing myself of the filth he left on my body, to even care. How I then trashed my tainted clothing, removing the last traces of evidence carelessly.

I don't ever want any of them to know how I put on my work face in the same way I clip on my badge and gun. It's a front that looks put together, a 2D movie set that looks completely real from the front but has absolutely nothing behind the façade, an air of confidence that doesn't extend beyond the skin.

They don't need to know how **his** words echo through my head making me feel useless at the worst possible moments. They need to trust me.

It was only sex. I was no blushing virgin. I had agreed to it. I was using my body, what difference did he make that he used it too? He didn't hurt me too badly, the bruises faded in no time and the cuts weren't even bad enough to need stitches. When I compare it to what Olivia went through it puts itself properly into context. She was starved, drugged, tortured, beaten, burned, forced to watch a man killed, his wife raped and god only knows what else.

 **That** is a horrible experience. I have no right to complain. I lay down in a bed with a man to have sex, changed my mind and he just pushed it into me anyway. It wasn't my first time. It wasn't my last time. There was no serious damage done.

I had pretty much put it all behind me before this. I can put it behind me again. This time for good because he can't hurt anyone again. My job awaits me.


	7. Does she know she has our full support?

**Concentrate Rafael.**

**This should not be taking so long….**

My hand reaches up unconsciously to rub my tired eyes. I knew that sleep wouldn't come easily immediately after Rollins' disclosure, but still I find myself unable to leave the memories behind when the day ends and sleep awaits.

It's like my conscious mind looses control when the fringes of sleep start to descend. It's in that semi-waking state that the niño comes to the fore, with all his worries and fears.

I have not heard from her since before the plea deal with Patton.

My resolve to not make a scene or treat her any differently is decimated the first day **after** , when I noticed her absence. Trying desperately to not be obvious in my concern I asked Liv, _"Is Rollins not…?"._ I haven't got a clue how to finish the question, but thankfully Liv saves me from grappling for the correct words when she tells me that she has taken some time off.

I meet her sad brown eyes, searching for some further information. Was she ok? Does she feel betrayed? By the deal? By me…?

As these feelings of guilt and inadequacy start to bubble up, I look away.

I had failed again.

I didn't need to see the disappointment in those beautiful brown eyes.

Again, it was like she knew my innermost thoughts and she leads me around her office desk to the couch, placing her hand gently on my arm.

She waits patiently until she has my eyes again.

 _"I don't know Rafael…"_ she sighs _"She is so…."_ And here she falters. I try to interpret what word she may be grasping for, but I just have no clue and realize I cannot hope to anticipate. This is not a conversation we can have silently. Nods, looks and sighs will not be enough to say what needs to be said now.

As if we have both understood the need to talk, we sit back into our seats on the small couch. I pull open my tie and collar, in a tacit understanding that this is going to require opening up, something I do not excel at.

She sighs frustratedly, still searching the word to describe Rollins. _"She is so….closed off"_ , she settles on.

I tilt my head gently to one side questioningly.

 _"I tried to talk to her. I know this must be so hard for her. I can imagine if Harris….."_ She wavers again but this time she is the one who looks away.

I anxiously rifle my memory for _Harris_.

Not her ex-partner. Not a friend or ex-lover as far as I know. I can't remember a case…. I'm drawing a blank…..

I look to her for an explanation silently cursing my stupidity.

Her body language is all wrong…. Her head is down…Her eyes are glassy and I can't tell if she is lost in memories of the past or battling the wetness that has appeared in those brown pools.

**Oh god!**

A weight starts to press on my chest, making my breathing instantly ragged. An invisible hand choking my throat lightly, realization starts to break.

**No! Not again…. Not her…..I can't….**

I can feel the wetness gathering in my eyes, as a storm starts to batter my insides, surprisingly ferocious in its speed.

The wetness slowly leaks out, and slides gradually down her right cheek.

 _"Liv…."_ I plead huskily, struggling to keep my own emotions controlled,

 _"Liv…."_ I repeat, refusing to say another word until she looks at me again.

She sniffs gently, whether unaware or uncaring of its presence, another tear begins its journey down the right side of her face. She looks up to me from her slumped position.

 _"Liv, who is Harris?"_ I gently question.

She tries to look away but I follow her gaze with my eyes, not allowing her to break away.

 _"I went undercover…..years ago….in a prison…"_ she starts to whisper _, "god it was nothing! So insignificant in comparison to Lewis, and what Amanda suffered…."._

She looks to me, almost waiting on a question. I just nod gently, almost giving her permission to just keep talking. The turmoil inside me doesn't allow me to speak.

She seems to draw strength from somewhere deep within as she continues, _"We knew that someone was raping inmates in Sealview Correctional Facility. I went undercover. I thought I knew who it was,…there was a disturbance, one of the COs started to take me to the hole, I thought he was saving me. I didn't realize he was the ONE. I didn't notice we were going the wrong way…."._

I inhale sharply. The weight on my chest preventing me from taking a deep breath. I watch the tears slowly free themselves now from both her eyes as I struggle to stop my own.

 _"There was a mattress. He beat me. He was going to… Fin got there in time. He had his pants down, he was about to force his…"_ a sob escapes her lips, and her image is distorting kaleidoscopically through my pent up tears, as I feel the first one break down my cheek, _"his,... his...…into my mouth. But Fin saved me. He got there in time."_

With this admission her head drops.

 _"Oh Liv"_ tumbles out of my mouth before I can think.

She looks back at me and I realize we both now have a steady stream of tears plummeting down our faces.

 _"Did you ever tell anyone?"_ I probe as gently as I can.

She just shakes her head.

I stretch out my hand, just resting it on her upper arm, wanting her to feel my presence without invading her space.

 _"I've wondered so many times over the years if I did the right thing? He was in prison anyways but I always tell myself I would never have left someone else to unknowingly fall victim to him….but….I don't know."_ The words just tumble out of her now.

I clear the massive lump from my throat as I attempt to put some of the wild thoughts careering through my head, into words.

 _"Liv, you know this was NOT your fault. Right?"_ She nods less than convincingly.

 _"He was a predator and I'm assuming you played a part in his incarceration?"_ again she just nods in response.

_"Usually there is only one way to ensure a predator does not escape to hurt again, Liv, this time there was a second option. You took it. You tried to protect yourself…..you did nothing at all wrong...I just hope you didn't have to deal with it all on your own."_

This time she answers, very quietly, whispering, _"I did talk to a therapist"._

 _"Good. I'm glad."_ I murmur back, struggling to voice the thoughts barraging me.

Now she tries to wipe away the tears that have laid a path down her face. She looks at me self consciously, until she sees my tear streaked face mirroring her own. She smiles tightly and shrugs her apology, leaving them instead.

Again she seems to find a reserve of strength as she breathes deeply, _"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I understand how hard it is. To keep a secret, like that. The guilt it brings. How it can literally stop you living…."_

She looks to me, to see that I am still following her train of thought….

 _"She is so closed off. She has spent so long hiding this completely. I don't think she ever told anyone. Or got any help….."_ her voice dwindles off at this thought.

 _"I can't imagine what hell she has gone through for the last five years",_ I finally find my voice, barely recognizing it's sound.

She shakes her head thoughtfully.

I push myself to keep voicing my thoughts uncensored. _"He was a police officer, her superior. I don't know how she continued to be a police officer, never mind an SVU detective."_

She nods in agreement.

 _"So much about her makes more sense now….."_ I tense slightly, worried these words should not have escaped my lips.

She sighs again and nods gently. _"Maybe if I had been more open and welcoming when she first started, we would have had a better relationship….."_

I can't let her take any blame in this at all, _"No, Liv, you know that she probably needed to keep a distance to be able to function."_

 _"I know"_ she croaks miserably. _"I just feel so helpless. I want to help her. I'm just not sure that even with all my experience, that I know how….."._

Her brow furrows in frustration and silence fills the air as we both sit considering….

No easy answers are forthcoming.

We keep looking to each other in the hopes of some divine inspiration striking the other, because the deafening silence in our own heads is soul destroying.

When I can no longer stomach the silence I suggest just talking through the problem, in the hope that we can find our solutions that way.

She nods eagerly, clearly as discouraged with her own lack of insight as I am.

I blow out a lungful of air, _"Ok, so we want to help her, but she is very closed off. So big involved conversations probably are not our first choice?..."_

She chews her lip pensively, _"She won't want to be 'handled'…."._ Even with the situation as it is, I can't help raising an eyebrow in her direction.

She lays her two hands out, shrugging gently _"Yeah, I DO recognize the sentiment, Counselor."_ She silently challenges me to question her further, smiling when I wisely opt to say no more.

The moment of levity is forgotten rapidly as we return ourselves to our conundrum.

 _"Do you think she knows she has our full support?...Really knows?"_ I venture after a few moments.

 _"No... I don't think so. Not really."_ She counters, _"I think she probably believes we have to be seen to be supporting her, but at a guess,….."_ she looks to me pointedly, _"…..well more from personal experience really, I think she feels unworthy of the support. So she can't allow herself to believe it."_

Her words send my stomach tumbling, their force smashing into me full force. My waiting words lodge unspoken in my throat. I feel my face fall, my mouth dropping open, gasping fish-like as I wrestle to comprehend their meaning.

How little I really understood this crime until now, flashes across my mind again.

I know I need to say something now, but it has to be the perfectly right thing. The metaphorical tumbleweed blows across my brain again. I am speechless. It is not a feeling I am used to. My brain battles valiantly but I slowly grasp that these words will never come from my brain. These need to come from my heart, this is not a rational feeling for me and I start to sweat as I disengage the controls on my mouth, allowing my heart push whatever words it chooses out my dry lips.

_"Liv, you know that you deserve every support possible, so does she. This is just another of those feelings that come from what happened."_

She nods shyly but it feels like she is doing what is expected, rather than I have convinced her.

I scrunch my forehead trying to identify the source of this feeling, after an assault. _"I don't really understand it, Liv. I'm lucky, I've never had to live it_ _but…"_

I can see I have her full, if tentative, attention now.

**God Rafael, don't screw this up now!**

_"It has to be hard to really BELIEVE what has been forced on you. I guess that in a struggle for to win control back in anyway, maybe you try to take on some of the responsibility for it. No matter how much you know you shouldn't, you equate the sexual assault forced on your body with the only thing you can, a sexual act, and somewhere in the mix of emotions, you can't help feeling you sent out some kind of signal that invited it. Because otherwise why you and not someone else?..."_

My inspiration runs out here, and I chance a glance in her direction now.

I am devastated to see her silently sobbing.

**OH GOD! What have I done?**

**What was I thinking? This was not the time for pysch analysis 101.**

But before I can start trying to take it back, desperately pleading for her to forgive my stupidity, she starts to nod, shaking her head, sniffling and gulping

in a couple of deep breaths.

 _"That's pretty much exactly how it feels…."_ Another dry sob….

_"I could never put it into words but that's pretty much exactly how it feels…..like no matter how well you know it's a control thing not a sex thing, it still feels like it has to be a sex thing….that your body has to have somehow betrayed you even more than you know. That on some level you had to have some part in it…."_

She has started to calm down.

 _"It's why it's so confusing to feel so filthy, so used, so guilty….."_ the last words whispered so quietly, I wouldn't have heard them if I wasn't so close.

I nod in pained understanding. How much of this has she been holding inside all this time? Does it date back to Lewis, or even further back to Harris?

This time no words are necessary. I just carefully reach an arm loosely around her shoulders. She leans into me, into the loose hug.

The exhaustion that hits us now is nearly insurmountable as it occurs to us that we alone cannot help her enough. We can try and do everything we can think of but some feelings are so deeply locked inside that she needs to unlock them first before she can change them.

I can hear her breathing evening out now and she sits up straighter, I take this as my cue to remove my arm from her shoulders.

_"I'll try to talk to her when she comes back."_

_"And I will keep telling her I am here WHEN she wants to talk."_ I add immediately.

She nods her agreement. _"And I know the guys are eager to help in any way that they can…, she doesn't know it yet but she has a whole squad of people who want to help her. She was alone in Atlanta, horribly alone. Here she has a family….."._


	8. You don't need to change for us

**Amanda, what were you thinking?**

I suppose if I was to be honest with myself I didn't really have a choice. I could put the guys off _"Sorry Nick, I can't, I have a doctor's appointment for_ _Frannie"_ , or " _Nah Fin, I just really need some time…."_ But when the sergeant calls and says we need to meet for a 'chat' before I start back, I don't really get to say no!

So here I am waiting for her.

In fairness, I am early though so it's my own fault I'm standing out in the bitter New York cold. After everything, I'm terrified she's going to remind me she doesn't trust me and if she wasn't so short staffed she'd get rid of me, so I thought the least I could do was to be on time. I need this job so I need to somehow get back on her good side, well everyone's good side really….

**Shit, here she is….**

Maybe standing out in the cold wasn't actually all that bad...

" _Hey Liv"_

_"Amanda, Good to see you. It's so cold out here, lets go inside"_

**Ok, just breathe, Amanda.**

God how am I gonna even swallow coffee. And if I do manage to get it past the massive lump in my throat, my stomach might just throw it back out the instant it hits.

**Shit, was she talking to me? I completely missed whatever she said…**

_"Amanda?"_

_"Sorry Liv, I didn't hear that?"_

_"It is busier in here than I was expecting…Do you want to go somewhere else?"_

**God no! I just want this over as soon as possible. Please just give me the warning of 'last chance saloon', tell me I need to move on from the past and get my shit together…and let me go home to Frannie.**

_"No this is fine Liv, I just wasn't really paying heed, what did you ask me?"_

I've never been so happy to see a barista. Just the slight reprieve while we order and collect our drinks is giving me a second to get it together.

 _"How are you, Amanda?"_ she asks as I sit down, not even waiting until I get my first sip,…although with the way my stomach is revolting, maybe that's not a bad thing….

_"Good….I took a vacation, went to Costa Rica for a yoga retreat…."_

I hurry to tell her what I did, it sounds good. Something she may even approve of… As the advertising said, it _'encourages mindfulness, allowing you the peace to center and relax your inner being…_ ' Maybe that's close enough to talking to a therapist that she'll back off.

 _"A yoga retreat in Costa Rica….."_ she says smilingly broadly. Maybe she is approving….

 _"It was the furthest I could get away from New York,….and Atlanta. It was good"_ I try really hard to keep my face neutral, the last thing I need is to give anything away or for her to ask too many questions.

_"You work through some stuff?"_

Ok, this I can deal with, I have an answer ready for this one, with an example of progress…..

 _"It was….. therapeutic,….. we were, ehmm,…. We were meditating on the summit of this volcano and the yogi comes over and taps me on my shoulder…I didn't even tense up"_ I grin at her, trying to communicate a sense of achievement.

 _"Good for you…."_ Her smile beams back at me, nodding in approval.

_"And now that you're back, you'll continue with therapy….."_

Wow, where did that come from? Crap I can't outright lie and say I've been talking to a therapist. I'd hoped that maybe the word therapeutic would be enough to deflect her asking outright…..

 _"Look I'm so sorry for what I put y'all through."_ It's the truth so I may as well get it out there now…. Maybe it will also be enough….

 _"No Amanda! ….."_ Damn! The smile that was beaming at me only a second ago is gone and her head is shaking…..this can't be good...

_"I'm sorry for what you put yourself through…."_

**Oh God!**

I feel like I've been sucker-punched. How is it possible that this is going even worse than I expected? The hard look she is giving me is just too much. I can't keep eye contact…. My eyes duck down guiltily…...

**Look up at her again, Amanda. Now!**

I know that she doesn't like me not making eye contact when we try to talk. I force my gaze back up to her…...

I can't risk a word because the fragile grasp I have on my emotions would not hold.

I start to chew on my lower lip, my eyes constantly flicking between the table and her silently probing gaze.

I really thought she would keep talking if I stopped.

I really think she is going to just sit and wait for me…...

**Shit. What do I do?**

This is the full, laser focused, Liv stare, I haven't got a chance of bullshitting my way out of this one…..but equally I can't tell her the truth.

What does she want? Do I tell her its all good now? Tell her how hurt I am? Tell her how lonely I am? Tell her how I wish I'd gone to her therapist but just couldn't?

She really is going to sit and wait me out...

Her stare isn't as hard now though, it's like she was trying to make a point but now can't help the concern that's flashing through…...

This is the woman that has tried to help me in every way she can, even though I don't deserve it. She was there all the way through this whole 'episode' with Patton…she deserves a little honesty.

My voice squeaks out _"It's hard…..."_ almost before I realise that it is my voice.

She nods kindly, putting down her cup. Her face is all compassion now.

_"Amanda, it IS hard. What happened to you was terrible. I don't know how you've kept going for so long on your own…."_

This is nearly tougher than the ass chewing. I'm only going to disappoint her…...I can't keep my eyes from dropping to the table now. No matter how hard

I try they just will not raise back to meet hers.

_"Amanda, you need to hear me now."_

I dip my head slightly, once, in answer…..it seems to be enough though and she continues…...

_"I understand that you don't want to be a victim. How hard it is to reconcile what happened to you with your image of who you have to be to do this job…..."_

**How did she know?**

I feel like I've been punched in the chest again…...

Now the eyes that wouldn't move from the table, slip up to meet hers without my permission.

I can only imagine that my face is telegraphing my struggle to keep myself together, and somehow now all I can see in amongst the compassion and empathy on her face is the approval I have been so desperate for.

THIS is what she wanted…

So all I needed to do was tell her the truth?

But how much of the truth? How much of the truth is the right amount and how much will send her and all of them running in the opposite direction?

_"Amanda, I wish we were closer….when you first started here, I was so hurt from losing my partner of 12 years, I just never gave you a proper chance…"_

_"No Liv, you've always been….."_ I didn't even get to finish before she had raised her hand to stop me…

_"No I haven't….And I now find myself quite often wondering how Cragen did it. He balanced being in charge with always being approachable if we had a problem. I'm still trying to get that balance right…. But we can fix it all now. In some ways WE are nearly worse than the guys, WE find it even harder to show any weakness…."_

I swallow so hard at this that my throat hurts, how can she know how I feel? How can she be inside my head?

_"I understand…...You know what happened with Lewis, and you know I had been previously sexually assaulted at work. I wasn't raped but I came close..."_

My gaze has to be searing into her now. I can't look away. I can't speak. I can only look at the strongest woman I have ever known, maybe admit to some of the feelings I have felt so weak for battling.

_"Some of the feelings that get left behind, even WE don't understand. We can't avoid them, even though we know they aren't right. Sometimes I wonder if that makes it even harder…...?"_

I nod. **This is how I feel.**

She smiles tightly, it never reaching her eyes, and just for a moment, at my agreement.

_"A vacation, or talking to a therapist doesn't fix it all. Talking about it does help separate the reality from the feelings though. I know you must feel betrayed….?"_

I don't know how to respond to this, I don't know how I feel…..so I just keep looking at her…..

_"Your CHIEF raped you…."_

I cringe involuntarily as she says this….I know I said the words but it still feels so wrong. It's so hard to hear those words in relation to ME.

_"I know it still has to be hard to hear that word…but he did. He raped you. And I have no doubt that you were right when you felt you had no recourse in your Atlanta department. And then you came to New York. When he raped Det. Taymore here, you must have felt like it was all just repeating? When you couldn't even testify it must have been a confirmation that you were right all along…..?"_

She stops talking and just continues to look at me, she is definitely waiting for an answer…I don't know what to say.

I don't know what I felt…..I try to take a deep breath, it is much shallower than I had intended, the weight pressing on my chest restricting me.

 _"I know he raped me. I guess I sortta always knew….under it all…."_ my voice whispers.

She leans in closer to me. I think it's only partly because I spoke so quietly, I think she is trying to make me feel less…..alone?

 _"I really didn't have any hope of help in Atlanta…."_ My voice is even quieter, more timid now.

Her hand snakes slowly over to rest on my arm, _"No you didn't!"_ she confirms.

My mouth drops open. She really believes me. She isn't just agreeing with me. She says I didn't…..I will never be able to admit how much this means to me. I feel somehow validated.

This infuses my crumbling spirit with a new power.

 _"When it all started here, I knew it wouldn't be the same but I was so afraid…."_ The words continue to slip out, _“afraid I was wrong….."_

The hand on my arm tightens its grip, _"That's ok, That's understandable. How could you not?"_

My heart is bursting out of my chest. The thuds accompanying each beat have to be audible half way across the coffee house. She doesn't think I'm crazy.

She doesn't feel insulted….

So do I stop now?

Before I can even finish processing that thought, I hear my tiny voice again _"I understood not being allowed to testify, legally, I really did…I just felt…."_

I stop, searching for the right word, but none fit exactly….. It felt like no one really believed me, like I wasn't worth listening to, like I wasn't worth the same as Reese, like I didn't matter….how do I put all of that into one word?

I see her lips curl into a sad smile _"Worthless…."_ she offers.

It's like the weight has been lifted all at once and my body relaxes from its tense posture. I can only nod my agreement…..my head nodding repeatedly, as I mull this word over. _"Worthless."_ Yes that's how I felt. Like I was worth less than everyone else. Like I had no worth….

I find my head is still nodding as I look back to her.

 _"Is Barba angry with me?",_ I didn't mean to ask, knowing how childish it makes me sound but the words escaped.

_"No! He was never angry with you. He's more like you than you give him credit for. He is so worried about you, if you feel he let you down by not being able to let you testify? He wants to help in any way he can but he doesn't want to crowd you. He's worried if he tries too hard, you will think he doesn't respect you…"_

_"He was better to me than I had any right to expect. I could have helped his case so much earlier on if I'd be honest…"_

_"He cares a lot more than he likes people to know, Amanda. He is part of our team now and he worries that we're not always on the same side, so we can't be on the same team. He feels like he pushed you into testifying. He just wants to know you are ok and for you to know that he is here for you. Don't be shy on taking him up on it, he'd love it."_

She really understands.

I feel so relieved. I know I'm grinning now.

 _"It's not all gone, it just doesn't feel quite so insurmountable…..talking really helps. Doesn't it?."_ She adds hesitantly. I guess my grin is answer enough as she continues.

_"Amanda, you see so many different reactions to rape in our job and you don't judge them. You understand them for what they are. You need to allow yourself some of that understanding. You need to lean on your team, allow us to help. I know it must be hard to trust after what you went through but we are here for you. Have you spoken to the guys about this at all?"_

I look at her in surprise, I assumed she had spoken to them…..

Again as if she can hear my thoughts she states, _"I didn't..., I told you that was your decision what you want to tell them."_

So Fin and Nick weren't calling me because they were told to…..

 _"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to….."_ she starts to give me the option of not answering.

_"No, I…eh…..I haven't really. They've both been calling….."_

_"They've been worried about you. They want to help….."_ she adds, again as if she is reassuring me that they did it of their own volition not under her orders….

_"I kindda spoke to Fin a bit, before…..he came looking for me when Dodds interviewed Patton….."_

She thinks for a second trying to fit this into the timeline, remembering the interview, _"He had suspicions?"_

I nod _, "He found me in a bar and demanded to know what happened between me and Patton"._

She chuckles, _"Good old Fin….."_

_"I didn't say….the words….but I think he knew. I told him enough..."_

She nods again, _"And Nick?"_

_"I haven't really talked to Nick at all about any of it…I just kind of assumed that maybe you or Fin…?"_

She now shakes her head, _"Nope not me, and I don't think the guys really talk like that. Fin would never break your confidence. Even if he felt it would be in your best interest….."_

At this comment she raises her eyebrow a little, as if it was an aside to herself.

So how does Nick know?

Who else could have told him?

Again it's like she's inside my head, _"They're good men, Amanda. Nick, Fin and Barba... They are all very different but they are so sensitive to their surroundings. Look at how good they are with victims, knowing when to discretely back off but also winning the trust of brutalized women without even words."_

I really have underestimated them. Now that I think about it, Nick kept reacting to my interactions with the "Good Old Boys". He kept questioning my reactions. And Fin was very quick to back me up in Atlanta when we were looking for the kits that Patton had. I didn't even realize it, but they were reacting to my feelings, my responses, my reactions.

I really had not seen what was right in front of me. I can't just blurt out my feelings to everyone or share my deepest secrets smilingly over coffee. I can't change who I am. Maybe I could say yes to the invitation from Fin to that gaming thing he's been talking about. Maybe I could meet Nick like I used to, for a drink, after what happened with his dad he might need a friend too. Maybe just not having it all to face alone…...

 _"It doesn't come naturally to me….."_ I whisper smiling.

She smiles, and this time it encompasses her whole face _. "We like you for who you are Amanda. You don't need to change for us, actually, please don't change. Just allow us to help."_


	9. It's strange how things just change

It's strange how things just change. How something perfectly normal in one moment becomes anything but, in the next.

It might be the fact that I've worked, probably, 80 hours in the last week. Or it could be that I still struggle to sleep, even when I finally fall, exhausted, into my bed. It could be the end of a bad week, hell, a bad month…...is it even the same month anymore? It could be the steady stream of heartbreaking cases I bring before a court in an attempt to see justice done. It could be all of this, or none of it. Or it could be the one case that won't let me go, the one case that has changed it all for me.

It's Sunday and I'm not due in the office. I have a bit of work to do at home but by my standards it's practically a day off.

In a luxurious rebellion against my usual routine I opt to eat breakfast and then shower.

I can't help wondering how Liv is? And Rollins?

My conversations with Liv replay in my head.

The relief that Rollins seems to be doing better is immeasurable. I know Liv spoke to her before her return. I didn't pry for detail but it seems like she opened up a little more and that she now knows we are here for her. Liv is more relaxed about it, that's enough for me, their private conversation is just that, private. It's our earlier exchange that is stuck in my head…

I still can't understand how she could have fallen victim to sexual assault previously. How could anyone want to hurt her like that? How could a person want to hurt anyone like that? I feel like the last while has given me a much more personal, true insight into the crime I spend my days fighting against.

There was so much I didn't know, didn't understand. I'm not sure I really truly understand it now?

Two smart, educated, SVU detectives have to struggle so hard to not feel damaged, dirty and responsible for a crime perpetrated against their bodies.

Even working as the Special Victims Unit Assistant District Attorney, I have never completely understood the special nature of these crimes, the true depth of the effects of these horrors.

I find myself considering how I will approach sex now. It seems like such a selfish, un-important matter in view of all that has happened, but I keep coming back to it. Ever since I started working with this unit I have been cautious, conscious of my behaviour, my state of intoxication, and that of my partner. I've specifically asked, more than once, if our activities were ok, should I slow down. I've refused to continue if I was worried that my partner was more intoxicated than me. But now, I can't even begin to consider it.

As I step into the shower, a thought strikes full force.

 **MY** body could be used as a weapon to terrorize and brutalise a woman.

 **MY** penis is capable of doing what was done to Rollins.

I look down at my naked form, suddenly hating that part of me. Hating that I even possess the same body part as was used to do this to Rollins, to Liv…

I feel ridiculous. A 45 year old man standing in his shower, suddenly hating the penis he has always had.

I've never believed that particular appendage is what makes a man, a man, but now I'm rethinking.

Are there any circumstances I could ever possibly….?

But does just being in possession of the necessary equipment make me a potential rapist?

I can't help putting myself in Patton's position. The answer scares me. No, I wouldn't take advantage of a subordinate like that, but if I was drunk in bed with a woman…..I flash back to my wilder youthful days, I've many times been drunk in bed with a woman….. Oh god, is it possible that I wouldn't know consent had been withdrawn? Is it possible **I** didn't know that consent was withdrawn?

This notion brings me, literally, to my knees. The water continues to surge over my hunched body as I kneel, traumatised, on the floor of my shower, my stomach roiling violently. Wishing desperately that I had stayed true to my shower before breakfast routine, I stand up slowly exiting the shower. I quickly dry myself, desperately avoiding the part of me that is causing this disgust.

Is it possible that in a rush of drunken lustful fumbling I could miss the cues? I couldn't miss someone fighting against me or crying no, but I know all to well how dangerous this stereotypical myth is. Could I miss it if my partner tried to stop me and froze?

At this query, I bolt into the bathroom to vomit back up my breakfast.

As I sit on the floor beside the toilet, I realize how serious this train of thought is, and how I can't hope to process it alone.

I could speak to the department shrink. It goes against my personality but I need to sort this out immediately. I can't expect Rollins to ask for help if I can't do it myself.

I wonder could I maybe speak to Liv instead? Is it fair, I don't want her to feel any responsibility?

Maybe this would be an ideal opportunity to talk to Rollins, I feel she would be more open to a a two-way conversation, or is it too much to burden her with now?

Maybe if I just wait it out a couple of days it will resolve itself?

**No! Rafael, you know better than that.**

I'll try Liv for advice, I decide as my hand finds my phone calling her number automatically.

_"Benson"_

_"Good morning Liv. Am I disturbing you?"_

_"Not at all Counselor. What can I do for you?_

_"I….ehmmmm…..I think that maybe I could do with a little advice please,... if you have the time?"_

_"Counselor.......Rafael, of course, are you ok? You don't sound like your usual self? Do you want to talk in person?"_

_"If you don't mind….?"_

_"Please, come over as soon as you are ready?"_

_"Thanks Liv"_

_"See you soon Rafael, drive safe."_

I finish getting dressed, trying to put the thoughts rampaging through my head to one side for the short time it takes to get ready and drive to Liv's.

My mind now starts to wander into new territory,..…fantasy. What red-blooded man doesn't have the fantasy of taking complete control of a sexual situation? Having a woman completely submit to his sexual desires. Is this though just a socially acceptable version of some sort of watered down rape fantasy?

I know that I could never hurt a woman, not like that, never.

It doesn't help calm the panic overtaking me. Somewhere deep inside me I know this is probably just my addled mind trying to process…..Rollins' recently disclosed rape, Liv's recently disclosed assault, Lewis, even the cases that fill my ever waking hour.

I feel like somehow I just can't make enough of a difference.

I find myself standing in front of Liv's door before I can formulate a plan of how to start this conversation. I must have knocked, I don't remember doing it, but I must have, as the door swings open.

 _"Rafael. Come in."_ she steps back, away from the door, moving into the kitchen.

She quickly pours a second cup of coffee. Taking the two full cups of steaming liquid to the living room, she tells me to take a seat and sits beside me on the soft inviting couch. Passing me the fresh cup of coffee she catches my eye, _"Are you ok, Rafael?"_

I take a second to contemplate an answer, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. I have no earthly idea how to answer her but I hear my lips betray me _"How do you do this Liv?"_

She looks to me, completely unsurprised. Her reaction is not what I expected. I expected …..I don't know what...but something else…...

_"It's not the same, Rafael,…it can't be the same…"_

I don't understand her answer. It's like she's answering a different question, not the one I asked. I can't help the quizzical look I throw her…

She shrugs off the look continuing, _"...all the cases we deal with every day, it's not the same when you know them….."._

Not for the first time, her insight has floored me. How did she know exactly what I really wanted to talk about? How did she know what has brought me to her?

The relief floods through me. Still not really sure what to say I stay quiet, content to sip the hot coffee I clasp in my curled hands.

 _"I've never heard anyone say the words for the first time,"_ I hear my voice confess. She just looks to me, giving me her full attention, but not interrupting.

_"I just can't….It shouldn't have happened…..not to her….not to you…."_

She looks almost surprised to hear me refer to her.

 _"Liv, I'm so glad that you told me."_ I hasten to add. _"I just hate that this happened, ...to both of you….."_

She starts to open her mouth to speak but seems to think better of it, instead lifting her cup to take another comforting sip.

Emboldened by her implied permission, I keep speaking, _"I don't understand how a man could hurt a woman like that…...and then I find myself hating the part of my body that could do that."_

We are not shy of using the word 'penis,' it peppers our daily conversations, but in this circumstance it feels wrong, I can't bring myself to say it. I feel childish…...

_"I'm so scared, Liv, what if I could do this? What if I **have** done this?"_

It's only after I've said it, I realize what has come out of my mouth. I gulp back the sob that was fighting its way out behind the words, shakily putting down the cup.

 _"Oh, Rafael."_ She mumbles, putting her own cup down.

She takes my two hands in hers, as I stare unfocused at my shoes.

_"Rafael, look at me"_

My eyes don't move.

 _"Please, Rafael"_ she entreats.

My eyes meet hers and I see the tears glistening in my eyes are mirrored in hers.

_"Please don't hate any part of yourself. You are a good man. You have never hurt anyone like that. You could never hurt anyone like that."_

I hear my voice betray me again, _"You can't be sure of that…."_

 _"Yes I can."_ She answers confidently. _"I know you Rafael, you couldn't ever do that"_

I look at her hesitantly, reveling in her confidence in me, but still not convinced.

She rubs my hands that now clasp hers _"Rafael, have you ever listened to a woman say no and continued regardless?"_

No! How could she think I would ever do that?

_"Have you ever had a woman try to push you off her, try to stop you physically?"_

No of course not. She really believes I would be happy to have sex with a woman who was trying to fight me off her?

_"Rafael, have you ever had sex with a woman who froze and cried instead of participating?"_

These images she is painting play in HD in my mind. I try not to vomit as I almost feel someone pushing against me as I disregard their wishes, crying. I nearly leap out of my skin, the images in my head too disturbing to allow. The shaking of my head no longer suffices in answer to her questions as tears roll down my face in horror, **_"God! NO!_** _Liv who do you think I am? If I even worry if she is drunk, I stop. I would never….."_

I stop dead, mid sentence as I see her smile, the tears still running freely down my cheeks.

_"Well then, Rafael Barba, you have never raped a woman, you could never rape a woman."_

I can't breathe. The tears unstopping, I sob unashamedly.

I couldn't…I really couldn't. There is no way I could miss any of that…...I could never rape a woman.

All of a sudden a collage of images of my sexual history barrages me; I remember back to an humiliating incident years ago, losing the ability to 'perform' when a partner told me to _"just get on with it”_ , my embarrassment disappearing now as I realize my interest was contingent on her enjoying it, if she wasn't enjoying it, I couldn't continue… I really could not hurt a woman like that.

The relief is incredible.

Only now do I feel the arms wrapped around me. She kneels slightly to my right, her arms wrapped around my hunched back, her head resting on my shoulder. I should be mortified but instead I find myself allowing my body to relax into the embrace.

**I could never rape a woman.**

She had to make me realize it for myself. I would never have just believed her.

 _"Thank you Liv"_ I whisper into the brown hair. The brown head just dips a couple of times gently.

I wrap my arms around her now too, turning on my knees to face her twisted body, her head never leaving my shoulder as we cling to each other.

Now it is her turn to whisper, _"I just feel so helpless, I couldn't stop it, it was too long ago….."_

_"He was her superior….."_

_"He beat her, bit her, threatened her, RAPED her, and somehow she still feels guilty….."_

I try to say something but my parched mouth doesn't allow it, I just nod and hold her tighter, rubbing her back gently as her sobs shake through her.

 _"I try so hard not to,"_ I admit, softly, as much to myself as to her, _"but I can't help seeing it,…in my head, …..over and over"_

 _"I know! It won't stop…"_ she concurs.

We both kneel in in this same position sobbing, crying unashamedly, sharing the little details we never thought we would say out loud to another living soul.

_"I still feel 'dirty', guilty about Harris…..He came so close, I couldn't have stopped him, if Fin hadn't come in…."_

I swallow painfully, _"Thank God, Fin got there in time…."_

_"And Lewis,…..I still can't be sure what he did when I was out…._

_I begged him to do it, I wanted to live…"_

The tears come faster from both of us at this, I'd had this thought so many times, I know she doesn't need an answer but I nod. Words are not necessary for her to know I understand….. but I can't help my own admission slip out, _"I shouldn't have let him walk"._

Her head shakes, _"When I went to the granary, I really thought he'd rape and kill me, and I didn't care anymore…I just wanted it to all stop!"_

Oh God. _"You should hate me, I made it all possible for him to do that to you…"_

Again her head shakes, _"Sometimes I wonder would it be easier if he had raped me…instead of this….…?"_ a sob stops the flow of words momentarily,

_"Somehow with everything that he did, even though I didn't want it,... if even he didn't want me…"_

How can she not see how amazing she is?

 _"I hate that you have to carry all of this…..that it happened TWICE,... that I can't protect you…"_ I don't know that I have ever meant words as much…

 _"I don't want to be able to imagine Lewis on top of you…"_ I continue to croak out.

 _"I don't want Rollins to feel like this"_ she growls.

 _"I hate that I didn't understand all that you were going through, all that she is going through…."_ I moan.

The tearful confessions continue unhindered until she raises her head from my shoulder, I mirror her action, our arms staying wrapped around each other.

 _"You know Lewis wasn't your fault?"_ she asks.

 _"Nor yours,"_ I counter…

At this she nods and smiles softly. _"I suppose it just doesn't always feel the way it is"._

Our arms gently unwind themselves as we sit back against the couch. There is no embarrassment or self-consciousness, as we sit in gentle contemplation, silently supporting each other. We are safe to let out the demons.


	10. Why did Fin have to be in court today?

**Why did Fin have to be in court today?**

**Why did I have to be partnered up with Nick? God, I would even have preferred Carisi!**

**Or why do we have to sit in this car for hours TODAY?**

**Dammit!**

Why did all these tiny little things lead to this?!

_"Amanda?"_

_"I'm not avoiding you Nick. I've just had a lot going on….."_

Great, and now he's giving me that 'I don't believe you', hurt puppy dog, look and watching me for reaction, like a hawk. I can't do anything or he'll somehow interpret it as proof I'm lying, that I really am avoiding him.

_"Amanda, you're chewing your bottom lip,….you only do that when you are thinking or when you're nervous…."_

**Dammit! I can't even do that right!**

_"Nick, I'm not AVOIDING you. I just don't want to talk about everything and I know you won't leave it alone…."_

_"I don't want to push you I just want to know you are ok. I've been worried about you. And the fact you won't talk to me, is just worrying me further that you aren't ok. You're my friend Amanda."_

_"Nick, it's fine. It's all over. It doesn't matter anymore"_

_"How can you say it doesn't matter? Of course it matters. You matter to me, this is not a small thing you can disregard and pretend it didn't happen…"_

My own drunken words to Fin flash back at me: _'well pretend for long enough, after a while it's like nothing did happen'_. I can't deny it but I sure as hell am not going to admit it.

His eyes haven't left me this whole time. I'm beginning to feel his gaze burning into me. I haven't made eye contact since we got into the car but I can feel his stare.

_"Please…Amanda…Please, Talk to me"_

I know he's not going to let this go. Fighting it is going to get me nowhere! If we didn't have to sit in this stupid car outside this stupid building, now, and if

Fin wasn't in court, I wouldn't have been forced into this stupid conversation!

 _"Fine, what do you want to know!?"_ I snap at him, still not looking at those beautiful eyes.

I feel his hand on my arm and try to twist away, determined not to give him any more participation than is absolutely necessary.

I haven't thought my reaction through, though, and he misinterprets my sulking twist away from him, to be a frightened flinch from unexpected physical contact. I can see it immediately as he quickly pulls away from me, putting his hands carefully out in front of him.

**Oh god. I don't want HIM to be afraid to touch me…**

_"Amanda, it's ok, I'm sorry, I should have thought to not just reach for you without warning you first. I would never hurt you. I hope you know that…..?"_

I wasn't afraid, I just don't want to have this conversation!

I'm fine!

 _"Don't **YOU** dare treat me like that! Don't **YOU** dare give me your victim_ _speech!"_

Instead of firing back at me as he usually would, this outburst is greeted by absolute silence.

I chance a peek at his dark eyes expecting to see anger flickering in them, instead I see concern and something I can't quite identify.

_"You are a victim though…..aren't you?"_

His words are quiet and questioning. I realize again that he really may not know what happened.

The guilt immediately envelops me. The hurt I can hear in his whispered words prevents me from snapping back at his use of the word…..

 _"Is that really a question?"_ I find myself asking as I try to re-ignite my anger with him. My last chance at avoiding this conversation is if I manage to anger him enough that he walks away to calm down.

 _"Yes Amanda…did Patton…did he…..?"_ he takes a deep breath, obviously hoping to not have to say what comes next….

I don't want to hear the word, not him saying it, but I'm not going to make this any easier for him…..

He sighs long and hard. The annoyance I expect is nowhere in evidence, instead I see a flash of badly concealed pain cross his face before he looks down at his hands.

_"He raped you."_

The question is gone now. It's a statement. I have inadvertently confirmed this fact somehow.

I can see now, he really didn't **know**. He obviously suspected, but he didn't **know**.

 _"What happened Amanda?"_ he asks dejectedly.

_"You really didn't know…"_

He shakes his head in response.

_" **Know** , for sure... no. I had my suspicions but… not until now. I'm so sorry Amanda. Can you tell me what happened?"_

As I see the hurt clouding his eyes as he looks to me, pleadingly, I can't consciously aggravate it further. My belligerence dissolves and I try to brace myself for the forthcoming discussion.

My arms curl involuntarily around my body, unconsciously hugging myself as I try to find the words….. _"I put myself in a bad position,….he inferred that if I had sex with him my sister wouldn't be prosecuted. I couldn't let her go to prison,… I agreed…He hit me,….got rough….I tried to…..stop him….."_

I've said these words before, to Barba, a man I barely know in comparison, so how are they so much harder….. **now**.

I can barely string a sentence together, hesitating at each new word, as if I've forgotten how to talk. At this thought I flash back to the last time I really spoke to Nick….me drunkenly goading him about 'not wanting to be saved', how some of us _‘don't want to be victims'_ …..

I feel the redness creeping from my chest up my face, with each step the burning shame inside me ratchets up another notch.

Again he misinterprets my reaction.

_"Amanda, you did nothing wrong. You have nothing to feel guilty about….."_

I just stare back at him.

 _"You don't understand Nick."_ I don't know why I'm saying this, I should shut up now but the words break through without my permission, _"I didn't say_ _'Stop' in his office,….clothed….. I was lying in a motel bed, ….half naked,…..when I changed my mind."_

Somehow this seems to increase his pain, I don't understand, should this not make it easier? I wasn't pounced on, pulled kicking and screaming to my fate….

_"Amanda, you said no….he should have stopped. It doesn't matter if he was half way through when you said no. If a woman says no…..you stop!"_

I'm an SVU detective too. Who does he think he is? Giving me the 'idiots guide to SVU' speech!

The anger I tried to ignite earlier in him, threatens to consume me now.

 _"Oh thank you St. Nick"_ I spit out venomously. _"cos I'm not an SVU detective…..I'd never have known that without you telling me!"_

The words have barely left my mouth as I glower angrily at him and he whispers _"….but you **don't** know that now Amanda."_

My rage hits full force. Is he calling me stupid? Like I'm not worthy to be a cop now? Does he have a death wish? I start to formulate a pithy response, while his words repeat in my head…. _"Who the hell do you…."_ is as far as I get before I realize it wasn't a criticism, a taunt. His eyes are haunted, his face lined with worry, he looks at me anticipating…. and understanding floods me. He thinks I don't understand that what happened was rape.

Before that thought can fan the flames of my anger, I remember how long I denied it's true definition. My anger collapses and a sudden emptiness rushes in to fill the gap. My body crumples in on itself, around my own tightly hugging arms. My head drops and hot tears surge out.

 _"Amanda…"_ his voice cracks…. He reaches for me and I throw myself into his arms. Sobbing as the deluge overtakes me, I feel his strong arms encircle me. His face bends into my hair as I clutch his chest, burying my tear soaked face in his shoulder. I feel his tears dripping steadily into my blonde locks.

Neither of us speak for a long time but the silence that was deafening only minutes ago is now comforting.

_"I knew what he did, it just…..it was too hard….somehow reminding myself I put myself in that position made it easier….."_

His arms tighten around me at this admission. Safe in his arms, his smell in my nose, I start to admit things I never meant to.

_"Nick,….he RAPED me….. and I let him away with it. I was lying in a bed half naked with him, to prevent my sister from being prosecuted,…..how could I tell anyone. I knew what I would be called. I knew what I was."_

_"No Amanda, what you were was a kind sweet, woman trying so hard to help her family that she was willing to sacrifice herself. When he hurt you, you asked him to stop….what you are is a woman who was raped…"_ His whispered words hang in the air until my story starts to flood out….

 _"I remember lying down on the bed, I was more nervous then, than my first time. He treated me as some **thing** he had bought, some **thing** he owned, pawing at me, pulling at my clothes, ripping my top…He was drunk… He pulled down my pants. It was all going too fast. He didn't care if I felt any pleasure….I asked him to 'slow down'. He hit me….."_ My hand unconsciously snakes it's way to my left cheek, gently soothing the imagined pain…..Nick continues to hold me, his embrace somehow tight but not restrictive.

 _"He bit my neck …not a little love bite…..hard…and slammed my head into the headboard."_ Again my hand follows my narrative, trying to soothe my neck and head.

_"I couldn't believe the thud it made. And when I looked, Nick, there was blood on the sheets….my head was bleeding..."_

He says nothing, not wanting to interrupt, he just strokes my head softly where I am gesturing at a remembered wound.

 _"I was starting to get scared. I must have started to move, to try and get away... he grabbed my wrists…...They started to burn from trying to twist out of his grasp, like when you were a kid, playing that game where you twist the other's wrist until someone cries STOP…..."_ I can't remember what it's called but before I can ask him, the rest of my sorry tale continues to tumble out…

_"He told me 'Amanda, you know I don't take 'No' for an answer'. Just like he said to Reese. I could have stopped him. She didn't need to go through this….."_

Again this distraction barely stops the words dripping out of my mouth….

_"I **knew** he wasn't going to stop…..I felt my muscles burning, like when you've chased a perp too hard…..as I tried to push him off me... to get off that bed. He pulled my arms up above my head, my shoulders hurt….I tried to get my arms down…..I got one free…but he slapped me…..my head smacked into the headboard again. I thought I was going to pass out…..I got dizzy, my ears were ringing….he kindda shook me til I came to…...he told me I wasn't going anywhere…. I was too weak to stop him getting my wrist back and dragging my two arms back up above my head…. He just kindda leaned his body on me to stop me moving. He only needed one hand to hold my two. I tried to pull free, I really did, but I couldn't…He was too strong…."_

I can't stop my quiet voice from getting even quieter now as I continue my agonizing remembrance.

_"He started to lift his hips, to open and push down his pants…he **bit** me. His teeth hurt my neck. I thought he was going to just tear off a chunk of my flesh."_

I'm struggling to talk through the deluge of hot salty tears but I can't control my voice anymore….the words continue to gush out.

_"I said no….I think I said it before…I'm sure I said it before?...but then I just kept saying it. It was all I could think, nononononononono, I don't know how many times I said it but it didn't sound like a real word anymore…..like it was just a meaningless sound…..but he didn't stop. His hand was moving around my body…I was so **scared** ….my whole body **hurt** …..he told me 'no-one would believe you anyway'…..I felt…his ehmmmm….… **HIM** ….. against my leg, it was hard, I knew he was going to do it…..How could he be so aroused? I was bleeding, crying, how did this make him hard?...….I thought I was gonna pass out…..then I couldn't move anymore…..my body wouldn't listen…..I **FROZE** ….I lay there and just let him…..I didn't want it Nick. I didn't! It hurt! God it hurt so bad….I didn't know sex could hurt that bad. It felt like he was scooping my insides out , burning them. …I knew he tore me. ….I didn't want it. My body didn't want it! I wasn't ….. **ready**!…How did it not matter my body wasn't ready?...It has to have hurt him too…..Hurt his….. **HIM** …..How did he stay….aroused?…...I kept saying no…but I just lay there…I let him do it."_

I just start repeating _'I let him'_ as the sobbing makes my words incomprehensible. He gathers me into his lap, gently pulling me across the car, rolling me into the biggest hug he can. He sobs with me as I realize I never meant to tell him all of this. He has heard way too much, but he isn't disgusted. He is so close to me I can barely tell where my body ends, in our huddled mess.

I can hear every emotion he is fighting to control when he speaks, _"Amanda, **he** raped **you**. **He** hurt **you**. **He** raped **you**. You did nothing wrong. You did it all right. **He** raped **you**."_

Somehow the words that usually make me tense and flinch are comforting. I think it's the way he is saying them. Like **he** did the wrong thing to **me**.

Where usually I hear an accusation being thrown, an implied question, a barely disguised judgment, now I hear compassion and understanding, recognition that **I** was wronged.

He gently kisses my hair.

His voice is husky with emotion and pain, _"Did you tell anyone?"_ he asks tenderly.

 _"I just wanted it to go away. To not have happened…..I showered…..I know I destroyed all the evidence… I was covered in his sweat…I was bleeding…"_ my head gestures downwards, trying to communicate it silently, _"….his…fluids…the sheets were stained…..I needed to get it off me…..I know I shouldn't have destroyed the evidence but…I needed to feel clean. I put my clothes on and went home. I knew what would be said…."_

Somehow this is only getting harder, all the gritty details are out there but I can deny a certain amount of responsibility for them, what follows is all on me, and its weight is crushing me.

_"The next day…I….they told me I was a slut. That I was trying to sleep my way up….that I was a whore."_

I couldn't really argue with them. They were right. I agreed to make a deal, my sister would get off and I would pay my end of the bargain with my body….I am a slut.

_"Sam, my captain, implied I had slept with him too to get ahead…He had hit on me, propositioned me, but I'd said no, turned him down….…..they looked at me like I was dirt…"_

_"Amanda, you are not a slut. Patton raped you….what about the cuts, the bruises?"_

I can't help but shiver as the memory of their words assaults me. He holds me tighter, trying to share his warmth.

_"Patton told them that I like it…rough….that I wanted him to choke me, to bite me, to hit me…."_

I feel the embarrassment rising up my throat in the form of bile, my face reddening at the memory.

_"He made it sound like I wanted it all…he told them we had sex and it wasn't enough for me…..that I wanted…more….he told them I liked it kinky….that I wasn't as innocent as I looked…that I wanted him to 'debase' himself…he told them that next time I wanted a few of them to 'do' me….…the things he said….about where I wanted him to put **IT** …...how I wanted…."_

My voice tapers off, tears are now scalding my face. I can't control my shivering. I feel like I have run a marathon.

I hear his voice whispering _"Amanda, none of that is true. This wasn't sex. It hurt so much because it wasn't sex. This was a vicious crime. He just wanted to scare you, to control you. All this **stuff** he said was to try and make any accusations you might make seem less plausible. He tried to slut shame you."_

_"But Nick, I slept with my GA sponsor, there's a rule against that…..I slept with **you** ….against the rules…..I'm not exactly virginal…"_

I can feel the lump he tries to swallow down.

_"No Amanda, you are an adult. You have had consensual relationships that have involved sex. That is healthy. They may not have worked out but you have never done anything wrong. There's no magic correct number…Did I take advantage of you…ever? I didn't mean to hurt you….you did want to, didn't you?"_

**Oh god!** He thinks he pressured me into sex. The choir boy is worried he pressured me into sex. I can't stop the scoffing laugh that escapes my throat, again he misinterprets, believing it too be a sob. I feel him collapse against me as he thinks he took advantage.

_"God no Nick. **Never**. You never did anything I didn't want. You were so conscious of me, of my…..pleasure…."_

I look up at his creased face, lifting his chin to make him look me in the eye. His eyes skitter side to side for a moment until my silence forces him to hold eye contact with me.

 _"You **never** did anything I didn't want. I enjoyed sleeping with you…..I quite often initiated the sex…."_ I can't help my mischievous grin, even in these circumstances, as good memories bombard me, **really good** memories….

_"I don't remotely regret sleeping with you Nick."_

He looks relieved at this insistence, but he still clearly carries a heavy weight.

 _"What is it Nick? What are you thinking?"_ I question, worrying slightly if he is about to say he does regret it. How can he not? I'm disgusting, used…..

_"What you said…in the bar….after the Martin case….I knew something was seriously wrong…..I should have asked…I knew there was more going on…...It just wasn't like you...I should have asked you."_

_"Nick, I wouldn't have told you….."_

_"Maybe you would have….I did wonder….it seemed an odd thing to say if there wasn't…..a **reason**. If I had known maybe I could have done something when you were sent to Atlanta on the Pattern Seventeen case or when he came here for the conference. Or even just to have been there for you when it all started to blow up…"_

We have now come full circle and I find myself the one comforting him.

_"Nick, I'm so sorry for that night. I let it all get to me. I felt we were forcing her to be a victim, that if we left her alone, it wouldn't all be as bad somehow….but it would have been, wouldn't it? Maybe even worse….?"_

He nods tentatively as if replaying the conversation, this time though, with all the parts.

_"You were afraid….?"_

I shrug my shoulders. _"I was angry and confused and ashamed….I don't know….It felt like we were doing more damage….."_

He considers this, nodding in understanding.

_"Have you spoken to anyone now, Amanda?"_

He asks the words I truly dread. I'm not angry now, though, as I was when Liv made the same enquiry, I'm too drained to argue.

_"I don't know if I need to…..I mean it's all out there now…..my secrets are all out there…Everyone knows….I've told you the stuff I hadn't told anyone…I had nobody in Atlanta but Liv, Fin, Barba, you…you're all trying to help me now…"_

_"I didn't really understand until recently, but a therapist….it's not what I thought. After…..everything….. I had happen…",_ he looks to me, silently pleading with me to understand what he is alluding to. The shooting, the divorce, the demotion, the hidden child, his father, his imprisonment…..he has been through so much…

_"I spoke to a therapist. It's a safe place to say the things that you can't let yourself say anywhere else. It's someone who you don't have to impress or worry about using information against you….but its not about them. The stuff that rolls around your head, it's too hard to know what is truly important, what is fear or anger, and what is just plain untrue…..they help with that. They tell you that sometimes what you are feeling is a valid feeling, but the basis for it is false, and then they help you work through the feeling anyway…"_

I am staring at him. His admission had started tentatively, laced strongly with embarrassment, but now he is controlled, confidant, clear….His face has lightened, his pained mask torn away. It's like the load that moments ago had been crushing him, has been lifted from his shoulders….

I say the words I could say to no one else _"What if I'm not worth it? If they find me to be…lacking…..?"_

_"Amanda, that could never happen. You are so hard on yourself. You have survived FIVE years, dealing with this on your own. You have dealt with all this whilst doing a job most people couldn't do. You have helped victims whilst letting yourself struggle alone. How can you not see how incredibly strong you are? Please Amanda? I know you probably feel like us trying to get you to talk to a therapist, is somehow questioning your abilities to cope or saying you haven't done well, 'get some help and do better'…..It's not though. I'm in awe of you, that you have managed so well, but it's not without a cost to you._

_You can't see you own value as the rest of us can. Some of the horrible things said to you have taken root and grown until you believe them without question. You deserve so much more. You deserve to live your life, as you want to…..without the huge shadow of this…It's only now that we can see how much pressure you have been under. I don't know how you have done it all this time, but now I want you know peace. To really understand, to **know** this was not your fault, and to **feel** it wasn't too. Its not a condemnation. It can really help. I want you to feel how I see you…"_


	11. It can really help

_"It can really help. I want you to feel how I see you…"_

I can't even count how many times I've replayed my conversation with Nick in my head. This one comment, though, just won't leave my mind. It's always there in the background.

So many people have said I **need** to, or **should** go see a therapist and I can quite easily disregard their advice.

I **know** in my head it can't have been my fault, I told him to stop….I just can't control the feelings that make me doubt myself.

I do wonder if maybe a therapist might actually help, but then I put myself in the room; the easily accessible tissues, the motherly woman in pearls and a sensible sweater set, telling me how **horrible** it was and advising me on how to avoid dangerous situations, and I realize again how it is just not for me.

And then Nick's comment plays again and I wonder….

I've never told anyone but I did, once, try a therapist.

I've never found it easy to talk about the things that really bother me, I prefer to play it through in my head, but it was all getting on top of me.

It was a while **after** , but still years ago now. I hadn't been able to even consider sex. The thoughts of even just being in a situation with a man that could possibly lead to sex, was simultaneously terrifying and disgusting to me. But as with everything, nature will out…and I found myself missing it. I didn't quite know how to go about it though… Do I just find a willing candidate and see what happens? Do I have a big 'talk' before? Or do I wait and see if I need to explain myself? Do I try and find someone I particularly like, maybe hoping for more, or just get it over with? Do I jump into it quickly or try and build a relationship first? Do I aim for a friend who I trust and just enjoy the benefits? My questions were endless and I hesitantly made an appointment.

Everything I stereotyped seemed to be reality. She was, as I expected. At every opportunity, the tissue box was pushed across the little coffee table, completely unnecessarily.

I left that appointment even more disillusioned and completely turned off therapy.

I'm surprised now to admit to even considering trying again, but the promise in that statement of Nick's is just too tantalizing to ignore. To be able to see myself as more than just worthless, damaged, dirty Amanda Rollins, maybe it would be worth just trying…

I think I would like a man, like Liv had. No chance of pearls then! I have no idea how to go about finding one though.

Not for the first time I'm looking in at Liv working in her office, trying to build up the courage to ask for her help….

**It's now or never Amanda.**

The guys are all out. Liv is doing paperwork but not too engrossed to be disturbed….

I knock gently on the open door…..already rethinking this madness but too committed to turn back.

_"Sarge, have you got a minute?"_

" _Amanda, yeah come in. I'd be glad of the excuse to take a break from this mountain of paperwork. No matter how much I do, it never really seems to get any smaller."_ She jokes lightly, pulling her glasses off as she comes around her desk, closing the door, gesturing to me to take a seat.

 _"What can I do for you Amanda?"_ she asks softly, pouring us both a coffee.

I take the coffee grasping it thankfully in my hands.

 _"Ehmmm I feel bad asking you, but….I've been thinking that maybe I should try speaking to a therapist…..I was hoping you could maybe help me find someone?"_ I force the words out quickly before I have a chance to reconsider.

 _"I would be very glad to, Amanda."_ She answers immediately, beaming a huge open smile at me.

I'm chewing my lip, looking down guiltily knowing I don't have the right to ask her.

 _"Really Amanda, I would be so happy to."_ She adds, _"Can I ask what has made you reconsider? It's ok if you don't want to tell me though….."_

Whilst I'm not completely comfortable in this conversation, this is not as bad as I thought it would be.

_"No, of course, it's just…..I spoke to Nick a few days ago….He really didn't **know**."_

She nods knowingly, _"I meant it when I told you it was your decision Amanda. I'm glad though, that you spoke to him."_

I laugh as I admit that he basically had to cage me in a car on a stakeout and push me into it… She laughs genuinely at this, pointing out that it doesn't matter, I did it and tells me how she has many conversations 'encouraged' upon her by merit of being trapped in a car on a stakeout.

 _"Amanda, how did it go?"_ she queries kindly.

I'm surprised now, at my reaction, I've sat back into the chair comfortably, one leg tucked partly under me, my arm is only loosely wrapped around my waist as I sip at my coffee. I should be much more tense, how am I so relaxed having this conversation?

I decide to try the honest truth that worked so well with her the last time.

_"To be honest, it was really hard…"_

I have her full attention as she nods, silently bidding me to continue.

_"He was upset…not at me, at what happened….."_

_"Did you expect him to be upset at you Amanda?"_

_"Yeah, a bit I guess,….I don't know why really, but yeah….."_

Her brow furrows a little at this but she says _"You did nothing wrong but I can understand the concern…."_

_"He had his suspicions of course but no real detail, I started to tell him what happened,…. the broad strokes but….it all came spilling out. Stuff I didn't mean to tell him… We were both really upset…He was really good though. He just said something that has made me wonder if I should just give it a try….talking to a therapist, I mean."_

She smiles broadly again. _"Sometimes it can take a comment or observation that just won't quit, to push us the final steps…..for me, it was something_ _Brian said after Lewis….Yes, I was very hesitant, at first, to go to a therapist."_

I cringe slightly as the memory of my words to her floods back, _'I don't need to pay someone to listen to my problems….'_ I want to apologize again but it doesn't seem like the time. She really seems to understand…

I nod in agreement and shrug, _"I don't know if I can do it, or if it will even help but I guess it can't really hurt…."_

_"It won't be easy, there'll be days you may even think it's making things worse, but if you can stick with it….I'm not saying it goes away, but Amanda, I can't explain how it changes things…."_

I hear Nick's words now, how it could be a safe place to let out all the stuff you can't say, where feelings count even if they are based on untruth. Where your words won't be judged or used against you…..

Maybe this is not such a bad idea…..although my palms get sweaty even at the thoughts of it.

Her phone beeps and she turns to her desk, to retrieve it.

 _"Carisi,….."_ she mumbles opening the message, she turns back to me grinning, _"I don't think I could ever have been that **young** and that **eager**!"._

We both laugh at the thought.

 _"He's fitting in really well, with a bit of guidance from my more experienced Detectives…."_ She looks at me pointedly.

I know she's telling me she trusts me and I can't help beaming back excitedly at her.

 _"I should let you get back to your paperwork"_ I announce, standing and opening the door, _"that pile really is threatening to make a break for it…"_ I gesture at a particularly tall pile of files in the middle of her desk.

She laughs, rolling her eyes as she contemplates the mounds of paper awaiting her attention.

 _"Am I interrupting?"_ a voice enquires from behind me, drawing both my attention and Liv's.

 _"Not at all Counselor. I was just about to beg for five more minutes break from the dreaded paperwork….."_ she laughs.

He steps back to allow me pass him and then walks into her office.

I stop just outside the door, making a snap decision. I turn quickly and step back into the open doorway.

_"I just wanted to say thank you….to both of you."_

They both look at me in surprise whether at my words or my presence I'm not sure.

_"You've both been very kind to me…..more than you had to be…I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate it."_

And with that I hurriedly turn and flee, almost running the few steps back to my desk, my momentary confidence burst exhausted.

 

* * *

 

 

I'm simultaneously surprised and delighted at Rollins' words. I look questioningly at Liv who is wearing a facial expression, I imagine to be, similar to my own, surprise and joy.

 _"She seems to be doing better?"_ I venture.

_"She really is….she came in to ask me to help her find a therapist,…..Rafael, she's amazing."_

I plop down in the chair to my left allowing for her sit in the vacant seat to my right. She makes her way back around the desk to do just that.

 _"Wow"_ I agree, fully aware of her reticence up to now _. "That's a huge step."_

She nods proudly.

 _"Do you know what prompted this?"_ I probe gently, worried immediately that there has been some further, hugely traumatic event that precipitated her change of mind, then remembering my own semi-meltdown.

 _"I asked the same question"_ she declares, _"she says she spoke to Nick. He made a comment that has made her re-think….."_

_"Do you believe her?"_

_"Yeah,… I do. She was more open than I think I've ever seen her….."_ She smiles at this.

 _"Hmmm, I never really thought about Amaro and Fin. How much do they know?"_ I confess, reddening slightly that her partner escaped my mind completely in the whole situation. And I think that her and Amaro are friends.

**God Rafael, you idiot!**

_"She said that Fin went after her when he heard Dodds interview Patton. That would have been after Det. Taymore's initial allegations, he demanded to know what happened….."_

_"That sounds like Fin, I'm a bit surprised that she told him?"_ I admit.

_"She says she didn't really tell him. He had his suspicions and she said **enough** ….."_

I can't help remembering the sick feeling that descended on me almost from the moment she started to tell me what had happened, how I knew long before she said the words. I nod in complete understanding.

_"She said talking to Nick was hard. I can only imagine…..there was something between them for a short while, they think nobody noticed, but of course Fin and I did."_

This comes as a complete surprise to me.

_"Rollins and **Amaro**? Really?"_

She laughs, nodding, giving me her best _'you don't know the half of it’_ look.

_"That can't have been easy then…"_

She shakes her head. I can't help wondering how **she** told Cassidy about what happened with Lewis. Not for the first time, I'm amazed by her strength.

Whether she told him everything or nothing or something in between, the strength she would have needed is incredible. My mind wanders back over the acts cataloged carefully in my head in advance of Lewis' trial, that I have never been successfully able to erase. I know most victims try to keep at least one tiny, usually inconsequential, fact to themselves, and I am aware that Liv kept a lot more to herself. I can't help, in this moment, wondering just how inconsequential the facts she kept quiet about, truly are? I then think about Rollins trying to tell Amaro, her ex, her friend, her colleague, about her rape.

How much of the agony was she willing to share and how much of it does she still have locked up tight inside her, not allowing anyone to see? The strength that these women possess is awe-inspiring.

 _"How much do you think she told him?"_ I ask carefully.

I can't help wondering if he got a similar version to me; the stark bones of a story, the truths, the narrative of an action, devoid of the real feelings that catapult it into its real, traumatic, station, but enough to imply at its devastation.

_"She said she told him a lot more than she intended…"_

I bite back the urge to say I know how that goes. I don't for a second regret my conversations with Liv and I don't need her to believe otherwise. In fact if this is what truly opening up to another person feels like, I must do it more often I feel deeply relieved.

The image of Patton on top of Rollins starts to fill my head again, the unspoken query of what I didn't hear, calling it forth to imagine in some of the blanks. I shake it off, as I feel real sympathy for the man I have never been particularly close to. I know how I felt when Liv told me about Harris, the name I will never now forget. The ache of feeling helpless, the anguish at her pain, hasn't fully left me yet. And my only relationship with her is friendship. I can't imagine the depth of feeling he must be battling. I silently resolve to make more of an effort with him.

She breaks our contemplative silence softly, _"He's a good guy though and whatever he said has definitely made a difference to her. He was good to me….after Lewis. I trust him to look out for her. And Fin, he's her partner, he's got her back. I think he may have been the one to push her to talk to us initially."_

I listen to her tell me how each of them look out for each other, and am again prompted to remember how lucky I am to be counted as a part of this team.

 _"Rafael. How are you?"_ she enquires softly.

_"I'm ok. You were right, it's not the same when it's someone we know. It is harder."_

_"You know you didn't force her to disclose Rafael. Somewhere deep down, she knew what she was doing. She was willing to do it to help Det. Taymore. It just surprised her when the words came out after so long…"_

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, allowing her instead to continue…

_"She told me that you were better to her than she had any right to expect."_

This comes as a complete surprise. I'm elated to think she wasn't disappointed by my reaction, my treatment of her but then the implied self-loathing registers and I'm reminded she still has a long road ahead of her.

Liv's voice stirs me from my thoughts, _"You know you could never hurt anyone like that Rafael?"_

I smile gratefully at her gentle reminder.

She knows how deeply that possibility terrifies me. Since we talked I'm not as haunted by the fear, but it is not gone, just back in proportion.

I still can't look at my naked form without feeling a tinge of disgust at how a part of my body, that can be the source of so much pleasure, could also devastate lives.

As for the prospect of sex, the paralyzing fear is gone but the worry remains. I know I will be very cautious from now on.

 _"Suddenly it's not such a shock that most of us are single."_ She reflects.

I almost can't believe my ears. This was the one thing I didn't disclose to her. My face obviously reflects my shock.

She laughs, _"Rafael, you can't be shocked…"_

A slight redness floods my face as she teases me further.

_"….Or embarrassed…."_

She turns serious, _"We all feel it Rafael. It makes sex such a minefield. When you are so cautious and conscious of what can go wrong it makes it very difficult to know how to approach it. You find yourself afraid to make a move."_

_"It has been worrying me."_

_"Just trust yourself. You **will** do the right thing. This really strong feeling doesn't last, you will probably always have the 'SVU mindset', that extra cautiousness. How can we not, with what we see? This **fear** though, it fades,…. some cases will always bring it back but it's never as bad again. "_

Again my relief is immense. My shame dissipates immediately at the knowledge that this is not unique to me.

I smile. All embarrassment, shame and self-consciousness wiped aside by our mutual comfort.

_"So Counselor, I'm assuming you came here to add to my pile of paperwork?"_


	12. This has to  be killing her

This has to be killing **her** …how is she even doing this?

My heart thuds so fast in my chest that I start to worry I'm having a heart attack. As we cautiously walk towards the car, I look to Liv, her face is calmly set, but her eyes betray her fear.

I've been working background in the precinct with Carisi, since Liv, and then, Fin and Nick went to Chicago. I've seen what this guy is capable of. An invisible, icy hand clasps my heart, squeezing, as Voight smashes the window. Even though I knew it was coming, the sound batters my already frazzled nerves. His action gets us access into the car we are all terrified contains their friend's body.

Lindsay stands off to one side, her back to us, fearfully awaiting the 'all clear', or…..

I reach into the back seat, mirrored on the other side by Liv. My hands working autonomously from my brain, we search. I look at her drawn face, as we scramble desperately for any clue. I hear Fin's voice, loud and clear, proclaiming _"Nothing,…no body….."_ from the trunk. Our relief is colossal, but fleeting,….. she is not safe, she is still with that MONSTER, but she is not dead in this car.

As Liv pulls a bloodstained scarf from the join where the seat and its back meet and Lindsay identifies it as Nadia's. The pale, strained faces surrounding us tighten even more, escalating anguish clearly visible on each one. Nobody answers Lyndsay's questioning assertion _"So she could still be alive?"._ We all know how much we need to hear a positive response, we also know how unlikely this reality is.

Liv kicks into sergeant mode, giving orders, re-focusing us all on what we can do to help find Nadia. To an outside observer, she is all business, completely in control, but I hear her voice cracking, see her eyes drop to the ground as she battles to keep her emotions at bay. She still finds time to gently tell a distraught Lyndsay, _"We're gonna get him",_ but her well intentioned words ring hallow.

We all rush off to continue the search but also to just escape the cloying despair and all encompassing anguish that seems to surround this car.

We hurriedly split into our partnerships, Fin and I in my car. Liv and Nick, taking the Chicago Sergeant and Detective in her car.

I hurriedly leave the abandoned shipyard, so eager to escape the scene that I hit a few unseen, unfilled holes, hard.

 _"Slow down Amanda…"_ I hear my partner grimace from the passenger seat.

I look ahead unmoving, frantically trying to stop the tears pricking at my vision, from falling.

We have barely exited the shipyard when Fin pleads with me to pull over.

I pull in beside a bodega, assuming he needs food, drink or a restroom break.

He reaches across, snapping the keys from the ignition before I can process what he is doing.

 _"Amanda…."_ he starts _, "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you…."_

I know my face shows my shock. **For me?** Why would it be difficult for **me**? I never met her….. **I'm** not reliving being kidnapped by a psychopath…. **I'm** not currently living the **flip side** of a frantic search for a friend and colleague, battling to not use past tense when referring to them. Why would it be difficult for **me**?

_"Fin what are you doing? We need to get back! Why would it be difficult for **me**? It's Liv we should be concerned about….Did you see her face, hear her voice? She was seeing herself tied up in the back of that car. She was seeing what Lewis did to her. She was feeling what Nadia is feeling….."_

_"Amanda, stop."_

I look at my partner's face, the strain of the last few days all too clear in his tired visage. His pain and the creeping realization that we may be too late already, etched into the tough set of his mouth.

 _"Amanda, we know **if** she is still alive, he's raping her,…."_ He looks at me pointedly, but his tone softens considerably, _"We never really talked….. **after** Patton…..it's only been a few months…."_

 **Really?** I thought the heart-to-hearts were all done now. My colleagues were leaving **it** in the past, where it belongs. But, he chooses **now** to talk? What is he thinking?

_"I know you think this is a strange time to have this conversation…."_

**No shit Sherlock!**

_"I wanted to let you talk to me, or not, in your own time, but this changes everything…"_

_"No Fin, this…"_ I gesture wildly between us _"changes nothing. Maybe going, working leads **could** change something…."_

I grab the keys back off him and shove them into the ignition, taking off again before he has a chance to say anymore. Not to be beaten though, he gets the last word, _"Baby girl, we are not done!"._

The next hours fly by in a blur of leads and dead ends. Of finding the beaten and brutalized bodies, one living, one not, of his next victims. He decompensates until we have him in custody.

Still there is no celebration, only anguish,......... we don't have Nadia.

After his arrest, I find myself in interrogation, questioning the man who makes my skin crawl. His soft spoken, caring, small town, innocent mask completely undone by the dead, calculating eyes that stare back at me.

I know my part in this dance, I have played it out so many times that even my unknown partner doesn't shake me. I am the good cop. I'm the one who tries to be sympathetic, allowing him to open up to me as my Chicago accented partner, tries to knock him off balance. We don't even need to speak the same language to easily fall into this dance, in perfect sync.

My hard earned composure deserts me as Yates tells us how Nadia looked at him _'like a father figure'_ , how _'she couldn't deal with the responsibility of being everyone's good girl'_ , that _'she needed to spread her wings'_. I feel the vomit start to rise up my throat as momentarily I see Patton not Yates in front of me. I shove all the emotion down as my Chicago brother loses his control at the words that have made me feel sick. I hurriedly push him back off our suspect, silently telling him not to ruin our chances as I put on my best southern charm, asking our perp _"What do you think happened to her?"._

He hedges, not really giving us anything useful, but I see an opening, _"Where do you think this person would take her?._

Immediately I see I have him, the little shift in his seat, his eye movement, he's going to tell us…..

_"ooh,…..ehmm….well he would probably take her to a remote location, where he could do whatever he wanted to her…."_

_"And after that?"_ I ask softly, not wanting to know the answer but unable to stop the words.

_"Maybe he would take her body, to a special place, a sacred place…"_

He keeps talking and the cop side of my brain may be listening but I can't process anything after I hear the word **_'body'._**

I keep pushing down the emotions, each time a word sinks in…. _' **defile** her again'….'Nadia's **last moments** '….'wondering if you're ever, even, going to find the **body'**_ but each of his venom laced words make it harder to push down, as the agony grows bigger, it is harder to contain.

**I just need to finish the interview.**

As he stops talking, basking in his hypothetically couched version of events, it's clear he will give us no more. I make a huge effort to calmly stand and walk from the room before bolting for the bathroom at full speed once the interrogation room door closes behind me.

I barely make it to the toilet before violently throwing up the meager contents of my stomach. The absence of content barely affects my stomach's continuing revolt, as my tears flow. I struggle to identify the emotions that all assault me simultaneously. I dry heave into my pulled up knees as I hunker down on the toilet stall floor. My tears burning down my cheeks as I hug my knees closer. Suddenly I feel hands reaching for me…..I can't control my broken body's reactions as I try to escape the anticipated hurt, scuttling back into the wall. I wedge myself between the wooden partition and the porcelain bowl, searching for safety. If I could speak I know my voice would be crying _'NO'_ but even that is now, beyond my capabilities.

I don't know how long I cower there in my tiny nook, but when the tears clear enough to see, and my brain allows itself to process my surroundings, I see my partner seated on the toilet stall floor in front of me. His eyes glued to me, his hands down on the floor, unthreateningly reaching for me…

I reach my hand out towards him, not reaching his but not willing to move, he twists his body to allow our hands to meet, without moving closer to me for fear of scaring me again.

No words are said as I grab onto his hands.

Again I have no idea how long we sit like this.

As I start to calm, words start to spill out of my mouth, their jumble and emotion belying the calmness descending upon my exhausted body.

_"For a second when he talked about her being a good girl, I saw Patton in there. She's dead, isn't she Fin? He killed her._

_That could have been Liv, we didn't understand how lucky we really were to get her back._

_I though I was going to vomit all over him._

_Will we ever find her?_

_Was he just trying to torture us, maybe she is alive?_

_He sounded so like Patton, some of the things he said about me….._

_He really did rape her Fin._

_I don't want to think about him hurting her….._

_I hope she didn't suffer too much._

_Maybe …..?”_

He says nothing as I spew my thoughts at him, until they are too fragmented to make sense of, holding my hand tightly.

A new wave of sobs overtake my hunched body and he can sit back quietly, no longer. He pulls me to him, replacing the tiny space I had wedged myself into, with his strong arms wrapped tightly around me.

He whispers tenderly into my ear, _"Amanda, you're ok."_

After a few minutes, the sobs have faded and I find my words, _"She's not though, is she?"_

He just looks pained as he sits back a little, looking me in the eye, shaking his head softly, _"No Amanda, I don't think she is….but we will keep looking, we will bring her home to her family."_

I nod, this may be all we can do for her now. _"We have to get him…"._

This realization strengthens me immediately. There is something we can do, something I can do….

I look at my partner with a new determination. _"How did you know it'd be so hard?"_ I ask, referring obliquely to our earlier conversation just outside the shipyard.

He grins sadly, _"Stick around long enough, eventually you play all the parts,"_ he almost mutters to himself.

He turns his attention back to me, _"Because I know how hard it is for me. And I didn't have my life turned upside down a couple of months ago when my rapist, ex boss, showed up, raped someone else and tried to destroy my career for the second time…."_

For a second I'm shocked, stuck looking at him disbelievingly. Then I realize the truth of his words, his succinct, simple synopsis of my situation tugs at my weird sense of humor and I find myself laughing.

It's now his turn to look at me shocked.

_"Well Partner, when you put it like that….."_

His face breaks into a gentle smile, shrugging, his best false modesty _"what, that little thing?,_ expression beaming back at me.

I delicately pull myself out of his arms, unlocking my limbs as I step over to the mirrored sinks. I try not to look at my reflection as I turn on the faucet and splash cold water in my face.

He stands up from his twisted position behind me, stretching his limbs carefully, waiting for a cue from me.

 _"Fin, I'm doing better."_ I look at his reflection in the mirror, finding it easier to not look directly at him. He says nothing, cocking his head slightly to one side.

_"I have people around me now. People who want to help me."_

This earns me an approving nod.

 _"I'm not good at…..this…."_ I gesture between us, to be greeted by his _'me neither'_ shrug.

 _"What happened…I didn't realize how badly it had affected me…I was so busy just trying to get back to work, to hold it together…the other stuff, I didn't notice it happening, it just changed over time….now I can see how I have trust issues, I can even kindda see why….."_ I grin tightly at this progress.

 _"I know I can talk to you…..you know what really happened, I don't need to say the words?"_ my words sound timid, scared even.

 _"Manda, you can always talk to me….."_ he nods and I think we're done. He starts to walk away but turns back, _"Do you know what he did to you_ _Amanda?"_

I know he doesn't want to hear the words anymore than I want to say them, but I understand that after our conversation, all those weeks ago, in that Long Island bar, that he has to be sure…..sure that I have acknowledged it, that I am really dealing with it.

I look down, deliberately not meeting my partner's eyes, nodding, _"I do Fin, he didn't take advantage of a bad situation I put myself in, he raped me"._

I struggle to keep my eyes on the water swirling down the plughole but cant stop myself searching for his eyes in the mirror…..he seems to wait until we make eye contact again….. _"That's my girl"_ he says sadly, but proudly.

 _"You ready to go see if the others have anymore to go on?"_ he asks taking in a deep breath.

I nod drying my face, straightening my hair.

He waits for me at the door and we walk out, him in front of me.

Liv crashes into him. She had been on her way in, _"How is she?"_ she asks him quietly. He answers quietly _"She's good, Liv. Really….."._ _"Aren't you_ _Manda?"_ , he throws back over his shoulder to me.

She sees my red rimmed eyes, my tear streaked pale face and looks to him again. He nods swiftly, meeting her eyes. She reads my partner's confidence in me and announces _"We may have a name for his **place** , you two ready?"._

_"Lets go…."_


	13. Devastation

She sees my red rimmed eyes, my tear streaked pale face and looks to him again. He nods swiftly, meeting her eyes. She reads my partner's confidence in me and announces _"We may have a name for his place, you two ready?"._

_"Lets go…."_

The day seemed to last forever, as we combed the beach looking for her. We had every live body we could get, walking the line, looking for any tiny clue that could bring her home.

The beautiful desolation of this place, its grey cloud filled skies seemed the perfect backdrop for our darkening stormy feelings. The gnawing emptiness and our reluctant preparation for the inescapable impending storm, all served to bring home the sobering reality, the chances were that now we were looking for what remained of Nadia.

The searching kept us busy, allowing us to keep our minds off the stark reality, but as we started to search the woods, our worst fears were grossly surpassed. We started to find bodies.

Not Nadia. Bodies that had been here long enough so as to be completely decomposed, little more than skeletons. Their remains scattered here with as little care as the natural debris littering the shore, carried here by a wind or a wave.

Our suffocating agony unrelenting, until Amaro and Halstead call to us, beckoning us to where they were searching. I could barely force my legs to carry me over to what I knew awaited us.

Amaro meets the two sergeants with the words we had waited so long for….. _"We got her…..",_ but the sadness in his voice and the slump of his shoulders make it clear that this is no happy ending.

My leaden legs follow Lyndsay to a shallow hole where Nadia lies partly wrapped in a tarpaulin. Its blackness serving to further highlight her lifeless pallor, as the sickeningly familiar green of her painted nails is mirrored in the green of its reverse side, peeking through the sand. Her eyes stare lifelessly into the skies. This tableau of evil, hinting with every detail at her unthinkable suffering; the harsh red rings on her wrists, the blood on her face, her unclothed vulnerability….. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of her laying there.

When the bodies started to turn up, we **knew**. But no knowledge can prepare you for the reality. The crushing weight on your chest as you look upon the broken, lifeless body of the young woman. Wanting desperately to look away but somehow needing to see her, to understand its horrible finality.

Voight's voice breaks the momentary silence that has fallen after Nick's sympathetic condolence _. "Cover her up",_ he demands, in a choked voice, as his eyes flick to Lyndsay. She is battling to keep control as Halstead tries to pull her into his arms. She can't seem to allow herself this comfort, but they each keep a hand grasped tightly on the other.

We continue to stand around her temporary grave struggling to absorb the reality evident in front of our eyes. She is dead.

I look to Liv. I noticed the few steadying breaths she took in a futile attempt to calm herself, as she came to stand by the broken body. Now her face is frozen in shock. I look around to see my partner to my left, Nick to my right, Carisi just beside Liv. Their faces all reflecting different moments in the journey from shock to grief.

Nick, who had a slight head start on reaction time, moves first, wrapping his arm softly, around my shoulder. _"Amanda, there's nothing more we can do for her, let them do what they need to, so we can get her out of here…."_ He gestures to the forensic teams and CSI techs all respectfully standing back, awaiting the go ahead. She wasn't NYPD, but she was one of us, the much-maligned 'Blue Line' meaning she will, at least, be treated properly in death.

Carisi follows Nick's lead putting a hand on Liv's arm _"Nick's right Sarge, we should let them get it done so we can get her home….."_

Voight just gestures with his head, and Halstead starts to lead a grief-striken Lyndsay away.

Fin goes to stand beside Voight . I'm struck by his kindness as he just says, _"I'll keep you company"._

Voight just nods his acknowledgment. Somehow there is no discussion, it's just understood, he won't leave her, here and like this.

As we start to walk back onto the desolate beach the blissful numbness that had greeted me as I looked down at her remains, begins to fade, and I find myself leaning into Nick. I look to see Lyndsay stumbling, blindly through her tears, back to the command area, led by a distraught looking Halstead.

I somehow find myself surprised to see tears on everyone's faces as I look around.

I don't know why, but it hurts even more to see all these strong police officers in tears. If ever a situation warranted it, this is it,… finding the broken bloody, seemingly naked, body of one of your own in a shallow hole, definitely justifies a few tears. But it is yet another incongruity in a day chocked full of strangeness, and it pushes me over the edge, my tears are added to the river being cried for her loss.

Nobody speaks as we sit into the command truck. Everyone too wrapped up in their own emotional battles to be able to find words. Time ticks slowly by until Liv tells everyone to head back to the squad and go home.

Still wrapped deeply in a veil of silence we stumble into the vehicles that brought us here, leaving one behind for Fin and Voight. Someone has thought to get young officers to drive, so we all sit as passengers, lost in our own personal grief.

As we walk back into the squad, the normal hustle and bustle of a busy Manhattan precinct breaks the spell and our silent journey ends.

 _"Guys, everybody go home."_ Liv announces jadedly from her office door.

We all nod our acceptance of the instruction.

 _"I'll drive you guys"_ Carisi tells Halstead and Lyndsay. _"Do you want to stop anywhere? Can I do anything? Get you anything?"_

They both just nod their thanks, and Halstead looks to Lyndsay for confirmation as he tells Carisi _"No thanks, there's nothing."_

Liv looks on proudly as Carisi leads the two Chicago detectives out.

 _"That means you two as well!"_ she adds softly.

I start to gather my things, blindly shoving random stuff into my bag, neither knowing nor caring what is forgotten, as Nick says _"Come on Liv, I'm dropping you on the way"._

She tries to gesture into her office but Nick is having none of it.

 _"No Liv. Not today. You go home too. It can all wait. Come on, grab your things."_ His voice leaves no room for argument and I remind myself she may be his sergeant but he will always be her partner.

She sighs deeply, nodding her capitulation, as a voice behind us interjects, _"Thank you Nick, I'll make sure she gets home. You go ahead, get yourself and_ _Rollins home….And Amaro, Rollins,... I'm sorry for your loss."_

This acknowledgment that we have suffered a loss is too much for me and I start to sob openly.

Barba's face is pulled tight in sadness and shock at the day's outcome. His usual cocky, composed, perfectly put together appearance nowhere in evidence as he tugs his tie further still from his open shirt collar.

I nudge Nick softly as he looks about ready to argue with Barba.

He takes one look at my state and realizes he can leave Liv to Barba, he will have quite enough on his hands with me.

The tenuous grasp I have had, all day, on my churning emotions is now long gone, and I sob the whole way out to the car. Trying desperately but ultimately failing to stop seeing Nadia's cold, dead body thrown carelessly in a shallow sand pit on a bronx beach. He helps me into the passenger seat wrapping his arms tightly around me, _"It's ok Amanda, we'll have you home soon."._

He wrenches himself away from our comforting embrace and jumps into the driver's seat, pulling us out into traffic.

As we come to a stop outside my apartment he turns off the car, coming round to my side, I try to pull myself together, _"Thanks Nick, I'm sorry, I'll be fine from here."_

_"No you won't Amanda and neither will I. Neither of us should be alone right now…."_

I recognize the truth of his words, I won't be ok, nowhere near ok and as I look into his eyes I realize how shaken he is too and how he, quite possibly, does need it as much as me. I nod, allowing him to lead me up to my apartment, letting him take my keys and open my door.

We fall straight onto my couch, coats still on, in an emotionally drained fugue.

He is first to speak, an immeasurable time later, _"I know it's ridiculous but I didn't expect to **actually** find her there…."_

My hand slides into his as my tears start again.

His head drops onto my shoulder as his own tears flow.

I finally find my voice, _"She looked so…..scared. I can't bear to think about what he did to her….."_

 _"But it's all you can think about…"_ he finishes for me.

 _"Do you think she knew she was going to die?"_ this thought somehow scares me worst of all. As if what he must have done to her isn't enough, the agony of knowing that she suffered through his violations, only to then face her own death, is just sickening. I find myself hoping she didn't see it coming.

He shrugs his shoulders despairingly.

I look at him carefully now. I can see every emotion he is feeling reflected on his face. I want to comfort him but just don't have any words. I have no idea how to still the internal turmoil for him anymore than I do for myself so I do the only thing I can, I lay back onto the couch pulling him to lay beside me and wrap my arms around his despair-ridden body.

For a moment he's not quite sure what I'm doing and he begins to pull away. _"Lets just hold each other until it passes…."_ I plead and he relaxes beside me, his arms wrapping around me in return.

 _"We were so lucky to get Liv back…"_ he says what has been in my head since this nightmare began.

 _"I think it came closer than we know…"_ I start but am unable to finish.  _"Liv knows what she suffered….."_

I feel him nod, _"For a second I could nearly see Liv in that grave….but for the grace of god….."_ His voice croaks.

 _"I'm worried she saw herself in that grave…."._ I can't even begin to imagine the feelings that she tried to hide from us, as she saw the alternate ending to her own kidnapping play out before her eyes.

_"How are you Amanda?"_

This time the question doesn't surprise or anger me.

_"It's hard, Nick. I keep thinking that I was so lucky, I was only raped, it could have been so much worse. I mean look at Nadia…"_

He starts to try to talk me out of this train of thought, as I knew he would, but I put a finger lightly on his lips.

_"I know I shouldn't compare myself but I can't help it, I know that what happened with Patton was bad…..it has changed who I am. I can close my eyes now and feel it all. He hurt me…...I don't just mean the cuts, the bruises, the physical injuries…...he hurt me, not just my body._

_I just look at what has happened to Nadia, to Liv and I feel like I shouldn't be so bothered, so affected, but I am Nick. And I feel guilty for it. And when I look at Nadia lying in a grave I can feel what she must have gone through as Yates raped her."_

He holds me tighter, stroking my hair for a few moments and I recognize his 'deep in thought" expression.

_"You identify with her?"_

I haven't considered this possibility before…. but I remember reading her file as we started to investigate her disappearance, her 'difficult' childhood, running away to try to start her adult life better than her young life had ever allowed, striving to be a cop, when all reason would suggest it was an unachievable goal. Her life could so easily have become something else entirely….

 _"She could have been me….."_ I acknowledge.

_"But like you, she escaped her past, she found herself a new family and was building a good life for herself…..."_

His soft-spoken, husky, heart felt words touch me. She had a family who will miss her. I saw only part of that family standing beside her temporary burial place, but I have no doubt she will not be forgotten, her life will be celebrated, and her loss mourned deeply.

I understand in that instant, that my own new family has been watching me, trying to talk to me about my recent troubles, not in an attempt to fix me, as I had assumed. They have been mourning my losses, feeling my pain alongside me.

 _"She wasn't alone."_ I whisper, _"she knew they would find her, they will fight for her…..."_

He nods.

We continue to cling to each other as darkness falls. Simultaneously comforting and taking comfort from the presence of the other until we fall into an exhausted slumber….leaving the horrors of the day behind but knowing the following day will bring it's own new horrors. But horrors we know we will all face together.


	14. Reality

_"Rafael, You don't have to….."_

She starts to tell me, but she can't even finish the sentence…..

_"I know Liv. I want to…."_

I haven't seen the horror I heard she was confronted by, on that Bronx beach... I haven't spent the last days between Chicago and Manhattan, chasing a killer who has haunted my dreams for over a decade…... I haven't spent the last day searching for a girl who isn't just a name on a report, she was a colleague who had been part of the team, my team, chasing down that monster…. I haven't just seen the alternate reality of how my own kidnapping incidents could have ended... I have experienced none of this but I am still helpless to resist the avalanche of agony, grief and failure currently consuming everyone.

She begins to straighten the piles of paperwork weighing down her desk before realizing its futility. No amount of tidying can change this outcome…...She sighs deeply, and picks up her bag, leading me out of her office, switching off the lights and locking the door as if this was the end of any regular work day.

Her actions alarm me to my core, I wonder is she is shock, until I see her normally bright brown eyes, dead and unfocused on her tasks. I understand, she has switched-off, the only way she can function is to switch off…..

For the first time I feel real fear at my decision to pick her up. What if I am not the person she should be with now? What if I don't know what to say to ease her obvious agony? What if I can't deal with the force of emotion I can feel radiating off her, even now, in her currently dispassionate state?

I hand her the coat I had picked up off a chair in her office and she looks at it questioningly. I help her into it and we head to the elevator. There is no mistaking her absence, as she steps into the elevator on auto-pilot, leaning fully against its cold wall, as if holding up her own body is becoming too much.

I doubt she will remember getting into my car, the short drive to my apartment, another elevator journey or standing outside my door as I impatiently swear at my uncooperative hands whilst trying to unlock it.

She shrugs off her coat and suddenly realizes her surroundings are unfamiliar…

_"I don't live here…"_ she mutters looking at me in confusion.

_"Its ok, Liv, this is my apartment. I assumed Lucy is with Noah at your apartment, I thought you may need some space…"_

**Dammit!**

I probably should have asked her….maybe she wants to hold her son?

She nods, tears pricking at her eyes.

I throw my own coat and briefcase carelessly into a heap on the floor.

_"Can I get you a drink, Liv, something to eat? Would you like to go to bed?..."_

She continues to stand uncomfortably in the entrance to my apartment, and I belatedly realize how my words could be misinterpreted _…"my spare room is made up, ready for you…."_ I hastily add.

She shakes her head softly. I unconsciously reach a hand over to her _….."What can I do for you?"_

It takes a few strained noises before she is able to find words, _"can….. Can I have a bath, please?",_ she finally forces out.

_"Of course, let me run one for you….."_ I almost run to the bathroom, so glad to be able to do anything….

I run a hot bath, constantly adjusting the water flow to make it just right, wishing desperately that I had some nicely scented bath stuffs, or candles, anything to make it nice for her…...

All I have is Epsom salts and I throw some of them in, to try and soothe her exhausted body.

I put a couple of clean towels on the heated towel rack to warm for her, leaving my inappropriate but cleansing toiletries accessible for her, as I go to fetch her.

She is still standing where I left her, in the entrance. But her previously dead eyes are now brimming with emotion and tears….

I help her off with her suit jacket, leading her to the warm steamy bathroom without a word. What words could help her now?

I barely recognize the voice that escapes my throat, _"towels,…..products….I'm just outside….."_ I gesture to the towel rack, pile of toiletries and finally the door as she starts to pull her shirt over her head. I catch a glimpse of scars on her back as I pull the door closed behind me. Photographed images of burns and cuts from Lewis, assault my memory, as I find I've never considered how many of them left permanent reminders behind on her skin…..?

I try not to imagine her body.

I fall into the nearest chair I can find, my head in my hands. One hand scrubbing across my forehead, I try to erase the images from my brain.

**Fuck!**

Clothes,….. I never thought of clothes….

I rush to my closet, scrambling through the racks of brightly colored suits, shirts, ties, cashmere sweaters,…none of it even close to what I need. I quickly settle on an elasticated, draw-stringed, pair of pale grey lounge pants and a darker grey t-shirt, and a bright blue over-sized, soft, zip-up, hooded, top.

I fold them into a pile and place them hesitantly on the floor in front of the bathroom door.

_"Liv, are you ok in there? I've just left some clothes here, just outside the door….I'll make some tea…take your time….."_

I step closer to the door in anticipation of some answer but draw back quickly, when all I hear is muffled, heart wrenching, sobs. I want to say something, …..anything,… but can't find the right words, so leave her to sob her hurt away in private.

As I place the filled kettle on the hob to heat, I find myself wondering why she wanted to bathe, fear squeezing my heart as I recognize the feeling of being unclean.

God, I hope it's not that she somehow feels unclean, that the feelings that have to be battering her, the memories of her own kidnapping, of Lewis, have reignited the belief that she will never be clean, never be free of him…

**Don't be so ridiculous, Rafael** , I vainly try to tell myself. She has been working all day on a windswept beach looking for the body of a serial killer's victim…..but somewhere deep inside me I know it's more than just that, much more.

The whistling of the kettle calls me from my thoughts as I pour water thru my tea **thingy**. I can never remember what this seldom used, tea-leaf filled, handled, cage is called, and for some reason, this, now, irritates me greatly.

I debate finding my phone to google the name of this stupid kitchen accessory, but instead find myself looking longingly at the big complicated coffee maker. I definitely don't need a further stimulant now, I already feel like my head is too small for all the thoughts running around in it. My gaze slides to the scotch bottle beckoning me to partake in its bright, golden, amber, warmth until I find the oblivion I crave.

I exasperatedly shake off both options and try to content myself with the hot herbal tea I'm making. I grimace and sigh, sipping gently at it before heaping sugar, in to try and counteract its foul taste.

I don't know how long I sit, staring at the bathroom, in contemplative silence, the tea further untouched, before I hear the door creak open and then closed.

A few more minutes pass as I hurry to reheat the kettle before she steps timidly into the kitchen.

Her hair is swept up into a towel, piled high on her head, occasional wet strands escaping around her face. She is dressed in my lounge pants and the zip-up I left for her. She has clearly been crying, it is evident even without me having heard her sobs, but she looks incredibly beautiful in this natural state. I

feel the beginnings of a familiar sensation stir in my groin.

**Jesus, Rafael. Not now.**

I hurriedly return to my tea making, trying to hide the flash of embarrassment that courses through me at my body's reaction.

I pass her a mug of steaming tea, as she pulls her hair down rubbing it dry. She takes a sip without really looking at it….

_"Rafael, I'm surprised at you…."_

Oh god she somehow knows what passed through my mind a moment ago…..

_"Tea!"_ she says sipping deeply from the cup.

I embarrassedly hold up the tea cage thingy, admitting how I seldom use it and even less often drink tea…

_"I just didn't think I needed anymore coffee….."_

_"Well, they are words I never expected to hear leave your mouth Rafael."_ She smiles but her eyes betray her attempt at lightness.

I lead her to the large over stuffed couch in the living room, our respective teacups in hand.

I choose to say nothing, unwilling to force her back into the agony, but knowing she hasn't really left it.

She leans her body closer to mine, her shoulder and arm firmly pressed against mine, sipping at her tea distractedly.

I am content to sit here, beside her, and wait for her to broach the subject.

_"How did you hear?"_

_"It's all anyone is talking about, I suppose, since the manhunt stretched into Manhattan"_ I explain. _"it's horrible…."_ I add unnecessarily.

She swallows hard, her forehead crinkling in memory of some horror.

_"I really thought, maybe we could save her, even when we were pulling bodies out of the ground….."_

I know what this admission takes her and just nod.

_"She was gone though….."_

I try not to flinch and tense visibly, in anticipation of the horrors I know I will vicariously live through her, instead reaching my arm loosely around her shoulders, trying to hide it, and comfort her at the same time

Her hands clasp together tightly in her lap. She screws her eyes firmly closed, shaking her head as if trying to shake loose whatever thoughts infest her brain.

_"I'm just so tired….."_ she breathes.

I nod, relieved to not have to endure the images of her experiences, but bitterly disappointed she cannot share them with me.

I stand up, slowly reaching my hand out to her. She takes it, slipping her hand into mine, squeezing. I lead her by the hand to my spare room.

I let her hand go reluctantly as I pull the covers back, gesturing to her to slide under their down-filled protection. She takes off the blue zip-up, placing it carefully on the bedside chair before she slips between the sheets.

I cover her gently, reaching to turn off the bedside lamp I had turned on while she bathed.

_"No, Rafael….."_

I pull my hand back quickly, trying to look nonchalant.

_"Leave it on, please….."_ she pleads.

_"Of course"_ I nod, I would do anything she asked….

She looks embarrassed at her request.

My hand reaches, unbidden by conscious mind, to gently stroke her cheek, soothing away her embarrassment.

I stare aghast at my own actions.

My voice further shocking me as it announces, _"My room is just across the hall, if you want anything…please…..call for me….my door will be open….."._

My hand is still stroking her cheek as I lean over her recumbent form.

She looks at me softly, her gratitude clear.

As I grudgingly, pull my hand away from her soft cheek, she sits up slightly, catching my retreating hand in hers.

_"Rafael,…. thank you…"_ she mouths at me, almost silently, her voice faltering almost completely.

Her hand reaches up to gently stroke my cheek in return before tenderly grabbing my shirt front and pulling me down to her. I think she needs to be held, and my arms reach delicately around her, as I feel her lips press gently against mine. My mind stops completely, incapable of processing her action, but my body reacts, pressing my lips back against hers. Her tongue gently licks my lips, my lips immediately parting for her, our kiss deepens.

Her hand delicately returns to my cheek as she withdraws, halfheartedly, from our kiss. My eyes open to see her sigh sadly, as her thumb traces over my lips that only moments before had felt her lips upon them. I press my face into her hand, mirroring the gesture on her cheek…

_"Sleep!"_ I bid her, and she starts to lie back down onto the pillow.

She nods, her eyes closing slowly as my hand runs across her face one more time.

I quietly pull the covers over her shoulder and leave the room. As promised, I leave her door ajar as I make my way into my own room. I flop down onto my bed. The only light in the room the soft light stealing in through my open door, from her lamp, I don't even think to turn on my own bedside lamp as my mind rushes to process the last few moments…

**She kissed me…..**

It definitely wasn't a platonic kiss. It spoke to the promise of a passionate future…...

**Oh stop Rafael!**

Her emotions are all over the place. She probably only meant to kiss you, **platonically** , a good night kiss, and you turned it into something else… Or even if she did initiate a non-platonic kiss, she wasn't thinking, she has lived through a truly horrific day,….. she probably already, regrets it. She allowed her body to seek some sort of comfort without involving her brain. Or worse, she felt she owed you something….. I took advantage, in a small way, but nonetheless I took advantage of her state.

I struggle to reconcile the euphoric feeling in my body with the reason in my head. Failing to make my body stop its reaction to the continuously replaying kiss. My mind sympathetically tries to recreate the sensation of her lips pressed against mine, her tongue sliding across them, entering my warm mouth, dueling with my own tongue….

Before I can register what I am doing, I find an erection tenting the front of my trousers, my **want** engorging my penis in full arousal. And then the reality of the situation crashes down on me, I can hear her gentle sniffles as she cries herself to sleep while I lie here in my fully aroused state….

My disappointment in myself, and my betraying body are my last conscious thoughts as I habitually roll my covers over my fully clothed body and fall into a disjointed sleep.


	15. Reality Deepens

My disappointment in myself, and my betraying body are my last conscious thoughts as I roll my covers over my fully clothed body and fall into a disjointed sleep.

What is that sound? I think sleepily, turning over to flick the switch on the bedside lamp.

My sleep drunk mind struggles to process what my ears are hearing.

I rub my eyes, trying to kick-start my brain, which is currently, stubbornly, refusing to engage. All at once, the images of last night start to bombard me, the near catatonic Liv, bringing her here, running her a bath, making her tea….

**Liv, Oh god…..**

I hastily fling the bed covers aside, barely registering that the majority of yesterday's wardrobe made it to bed with me, grateful that I don't have to stop to throw on any further clothes.

She is lying in the bed of my spare room, a look of abject terror frozen on her face, the twisted covers still lie across her legs but her arms are free and seemingly fighting off some unseen enemy. Another sharp scream pierces the silence. Her horror filled voice pleading for an end to whatever attack her sleeping mind is perceiving, _"No, STOP, please…."._

I try not to let the depth of her despair penetrate my consciousness, as I struggle to speak _,…."Liv,…..Liv…..it's okay, you're safe, you were dreaming…."_. I gently stroke her hand to try and bring her out of her sleeping remembrance of hell, ducking down to crouch beside her bed so she doesn't wake to an unknown form leaning over her recumbent body.

She startles awake suddenly, her eyes bolt open, wild with unresolved terror. The movement of her arms stops immediately but her entire being is primed to fight or flee at the first sign of any danger.

_"Liv,…..Liv…..it's okay, you're safe, you were dreaming."_ I repeat my previous words softly, continuing to stroke her hand. Her subconscious mind seems to evaluate my presence as no threat, without any recognition of who I am. She looks around her surroundings, continuing her automatic threat assessment, a look of confusion clouding her features when she doesn't immediately recognize the room and bed she was sleeping in.

_"It's ok Liv, it's Rafael, you're safe, you're in my apartment….."._

She looks at me now, her confusion deepening momentarily as her sleep fuzzy mind struggles to comprehend.

_"Uuuurgghhhh"_ she swallows deeply, sitting up, her tongue darting out, wetting her fear-dried lips, her hands rubbing her sleep filled eyes. I pass her the glass of water from the bedside table, from which she takes a long sip.

She looks much more composed now, confident of her safety in these surroundings, but the fear still burns bright in her eyes.

_"Rafael, I'm so sorry I woke you…."_ Her words are husky, her voice still dripping in sleep and fear.

_"Liv, what happened? Are you ok?... Was it a nightmare?"._ This feels like an epically stupid question and I resist the urge to roll my eyes at my own idiotic words. Then I realize that whilst the words seem ridiculous, it is the only way to start the conversation.

My question only serves to remind her of her nightmare, and she instantly pulls her legs up in front of her, as though, if she can somehow, make herself small enough, the nightmare will just fly past her, sparing her its misery.

She drops her head onto her knees, her loose hair completely obscuring any part of her face not covered by her pulled up knees.

Her soft voice whispers from her huddled form, _"It was me…I was the one in that grave….not Nadia…"._

My heart breaks.

I let her work through her thoughts uninterrupted, unsure where they are going….

She inhales deeply, her head raising from her huddled form _,…."I'm sorry Rafael, I guess after yesterday,…..after what happened to Nadia,…..I had a particularly bad nightmare about Lewis, I've had it before, my therapist has explained it,…."_

She looks to me to see if I'm following her, my confused face clearly shows I do not really understand enough yet.

_"It's hard to say out loud,…...Lewis was raping me in the dream, I wasn't fighting him…..it doesn't mean I wanted him to, it's just my mind's way of coping with how close he came,….."_ she hurriedly explains, her eyes downcast, parroting the words her therapist has undoubtedly had to repeat many times, as if I may mistakenly think that she did, in fact, want to be raped by that psychopath…..

I try to control my anger and more importantly my reactions, I don't want to scare her back into silence.

_"He was raping me, and then I was lying in Nadia's grave, in her place. You were all standing there looking at my dead body…..I woke up screaming, guilty at being glad it was her and not me….I couldn't get rid of the image of myself lying there dead, wrapped in a tarpaulin….I was trying to get the tarpaulin off me….."_

I swallow my tears, moving from my crouched position on the floor to sit beside her.

_"Liv…..it's okay, you're safe, you were dreaming, it was only a dream….you know, on first glance, how horribly close to your kidnapping this was…...it's natural you would be able to see yourself a participant in her story. You need to speak to your therapist properly about this?"_

The voice that answers me is tiny, nothing like the usual confident sergeant I have come to know, and I understand that night changes us all. The façade we strive so hard to build during the day, is decimated when night falls and sleep claims us. That semi-waking state, not allowing for any pretense or disguise, our true characters laid out for inspection, in their entirety.

_"I know"_ she admits, _"it just feels like enough time has passed, ….I have Noah now, I can't be waking up screaming anymore ….."_

_"Liv, this only happened today, you have to give yourself some time. Don't be so hard on yourself,"_ but her admission has told me how much she secretly still struggles, how she feels her struggles somehow diminish her.

_"It feels like it's starting all over again though, even standing at her grave today, Rafael, I could feel eyes on me, like they were waiting on me to finally fall apart."_

_"Is that really what you think, Liv? I wasn't there and haven't spoken to your team but I can tell you, it's not even remotely what they were thinking. They were thinking what I was thinking when I heard…we were so lucky to get you back…..you managed to save yourself, we weren't close enough, no matter how hard everyone worked, to finding you, we could have lost you…..we came too close to losing you,…..we got you back….They're looking at you to make sure you really are there. They are worried that this will be hard on you, but they will all be there for you…."_

In this admission, the reality deepens, we came far too close to finding Liv in a shallow grave…twice. This thought is too much for me and my long held back tears flood out, surprising both of us.

_"Rafael, she was so young…..so lovely,….. he got her when she went out to get a cake for Lyndsay's surprise 30th birthday party, she was organizing…..she wanted to be a cop, she never even got to try…...but still she was kidnapped, raped and killed by a psychopath who she met through this job…"_ she says, dissolving into her own tears as the details she couldn't share only a few hours ago, start to slowly spill out.

We slowly move closer to each other.

I raise my arm and drape it over her shivering shoulders. I gently pull the covers over her shivering form, careful to cover only her, as she leans further into my one armed embrace.

There is no embarrassment as our tears mark our faces.

In between heart-rending sobs she manages to gulp out, _"I just hope she knew…. we were looking for her… that her team missed her immediately, …that we won't rest until he pays for what he did…."_

I can only nod, sincere in this shared hope.

_"When he drove her across the country,….. she was in the backseat, at least some of the time,… she left her scarf for us to find, in the same way I left my necklace….her wrists were marked…"_ she unconsciously wraps her fingers around her own left wrist soothing her remembered broken bone.

I steel myself as the details continue. I have already ensured I will be the one prosecuting this case. I couldn't allow another prosecutor to handle this case, knowing the toll it will take on the squad, my squad…. I have had no evidence or files yet, but the similarities are already agonizing.

Her jagged breathing is almost back to normal, and the body shaking sobs have stopped when she tells me; _"He told us he had raped and killed her….."_

My head snaps up at this, the inner prosecutor immediately hooked.

_"He couched it in hypotheticals but he told us….."_ she continues.

_"Still admissible, and may be enough to push a full confession on the stand….."_ I declare encouragingly.

_"Amanda was interviewing him with one of the Chicago cops. Rafael, she was amazing. She played him perfectly. Without his hypothetical admission, we wouldn't have gotten him, she got us that…...it has to have been hell for her. He started trying to say Nadia couldn't be 'everyone's good girl' anymore, I swear it sounded just like Patton,... but she didn't bat an eyelid, just asked all the right questions. I think she was sick afterwards though, but she seemed to talk to Fin….she is just doing so well."_

_"She's strong Liv. She has the whole squad behind her and she has a great role model in you."_

_"I was thinking Rafael, this is probably the kind of case the brass will try and get us all department mandated shrink appointments, do you think I would be admitting we're in trouble if I pre-empted them and tried to get in touch with Huang? He's that FBI shrink, we used to always talk to, he's an old part of the team, he understands….He's still department approved and if he's in town I'm sure he'd do it….."_

_"Liv, I think that would be a great idea, and the brass could only approve of your leadership. Plus, getting someone that Fin may actually talk to is nothing short of miraculous…"_ she laughs at that, trying to stifle a yawn.

I can see she is exhausted but don't want to stop her from talking while she is opening up.

_"Liv, you will go see your therapist, won't you? I can't even begin to understand how hard this is for you….."_

My voice is hesitant, this feels like it may be an invasion of her privacy but I can't bear to think of her suffering like this at night, when she tries to sleep.

My mind quickly corrects me though, she has already suffered like this, her telling comment earlier of _'I can't be waking up screaming anymore'_ flashes to mind.

There is no sign of irritation or me going to far when she quietly admits, _"No, I think I should go see him…."._

I can see she is struggling with a thought, almost like she wants to ask a question but keeps thinking better of it.

_"You can say anything Liv…. we can talk about anything…"_ I gently urge her to share…

_"When we were looking for her, when we kept hitting dead end after dead end, the feeling of….failure, of despair…..I didn't know that's how it felt when you were looking for me….I knew that everyone was looking for me, that I was a cop, the department would throw everything at it, but I didn't know it felt like…that…."_

Only Liv could be thinking about how her kidnapping upset everyone else. I have no idea what to say. I try to think back to the all encompassing relief we felt when she was found, alive, but can't even reassure her with this as I painfully remember how this immense relief was tinged heavily with worry and fear, the knowledge that she had to have suffered so much clamping strict limits onto our joy…

As we sit in comfortable, but emotion laden silence, I think back to last night, to her almost catatonic state when we arrived here and I can't stop myself from asking the question that chilled me when she asked for a bath…..

_"Liv, why did you want a bath last night?"_

She looks at me slightly surprised for a moment until she recognizes the unspoken worry.

_"I was cold, and wanted the smell of the beach, of everything, off me…..and the memories of Lewis….I just needed to wash them all away….I know how that sounds Rafael, I just couldn't stop it…"_ she shrugs slowly.

_"It's ok Liv"_ I try to reassure her…

She puts her hand gently on my arm to stop me, _"Thank you for caring Rafael. I know it makes no sense and I know what happened was not my fault,_ _with Lewis or not being able to save Nadia….."_

She saw through my question to the heart of what was worrying me and put me at ease with her honesty.

She tries to stifle a yawn.

_"You're exhausted, Liv. Why don't you just lay back and try to sleep?"_

She starts to lie back, another huge yawn escaping her mouth as her head hits the pillow.

I start to reach for the lamp but remember her earlier preference that it be left on, instead I reach for her phone, checking the time, still plenty of time left for a good night's sleep…

She straightens the covers that had been all thrown to the side in the midst of her earlier rush to escape unseen attackers.

I start to move from beside her on her bed.

_"Rafael, you would never hurt me, I trust you, I feel safe here,"_ she says looking me straight in the eye. I know now, that she is talking about our earlier kiss. I smile gently at her, retaking my seat next to her, silently agreeing to the conversation.

_"I'm sorry, Rafael. My emotions were all over the place…..I shouldn't have done it…especially in those circumstances…. "_

_"Liv, don't apologize. It wasn't…. unwanted,….it was just… I wasn't expecting it…. I was worried you felt I took advantage of you….."_

_"Never….."_ she shakes her head emphatically, " _It was probably gonna happen at some point, we have been getting close…You didn't do anything wrong,…I kissed you…I know I like you Rafael. I trust you…that sounds like a small thing, but for me,…..it's huge….I didn't think, I just felt…..I was in the moment and you were there for me….. I wanted to kiss you but I'm not ready…I can feel this case, Nadia, has brought up so much…I don't know…I know I sound like a tongue tied teenager, I'm just not ready….for anything…."_

Relief courses through me and I allow myself to relax. She doesn't regret it and she doesn't feel I tried to take advantage of her. I haven't ruined our friendship.

I smile broadly despite myself. I take her hand and squeeze it gently, beyond happy with her words.

_"Just keep healing, Liv…..and know that I'm here for you."_

My relief at not having ruined our unlabeled connection is mirrored in her features. We are friends, but a future escalation is not ruled out. We can continue on as we are. This is beyond my wildest expectations. I know I'm grinning like a schoolboy.

_"Sleep well…."_ I murmur, as I pad softly back into my own room

I quickly change into a pair of pajama pants and t-shirt, discarding my previous day's choice of shirt and pants onto the chair.

The tumult of my previous journey into sleep is completely forgotten, as I now consider our kiss in a new light. Olivia Benson kissed me. I sound like a teenager after his first kiss but the reality surprises me still. Strangely I'm not disappointed by her admission she is _'not ready for anything'_ , I'm amazed by her self-awareness and deeply touched by the trust she has put in me. I'm beyond elated, that maybe I may have a chance of more with her.

I fall into a peaceful sleep, happy in this knowledge.

I awake to sun streaming through the window. I check my phone to see we have slept the whole way through the night, uninterrupted by horror.

I smile broadly as I poke my head in the door of her room, to find her still in the same place, her face relaxed, at ease, as she sleeps, her covers showing none of the disarray of her previous night's horror.

Today is a new day, the ghosts of last night diminished in the brightness of daylight. Another monster has been caught and it's my job to ensure he is locked up.


	16. This trial is agony

This trial is agony.

It seems like the parallels for my battered squad are endless.

When **he** started to accuse her Sergeant, a man who has made it clear he is not my biggest fan, of raping Nadia and precipitating her flight to New York, I thought I would vomit.

This is day three of my personal hell, and my patience is already long exhausted.

Day one had consisted of a conference with Liv and the Chicago Sergeant, Voight, who seemed to take every question as a personal slight. I understood his personal stake, I couldn't even begin to fathom how he felt, to be sitting in my office, over a polished, New York conference table discussing one of his team's horrific kidnapping, rape and murder, but I had to leave my compassion for his suffering outside. My only way to honor his slain colleague, was to get the best justice I could. I understood that this involved hard questions, but the man's disdain for me was crystal clear. We agreed, after much heated arguing, that our best case, our best chance of jailing this monster, was that of Nadia,... but I knew how hard this would be.

The first day of trial, immediately snapped me out of any thoughts of this being an easy win, when Yates opted to represent himself, his attorney staying on as his co-counsel at the judge's insistence. Immediately Lewis' trial flooded back. Yet another similarity in a case already too chocked full of parallels. If I felt Lewis' ghostly presence in this trial, I can only imagine how Liv felt...…

The courtroom was packed with the SVU squad, police officers supporting their Chicago brothers with their presence, and of course Halstead, Lyndsay and Voight from her own team, as Doctor Warner testified. Every glance at my squad, at her Chicago team smashed home the reality of their agony at hearing her suffering reduced to a laundry list of injuries and photographs.

Every new sordid detail intensifying their, already immense, pain.

When Yates stood up and asked if _"those wounds of the vagina and rectum were the kind of things you might see in the body of an active prostitute?",_ even I couldn't control my look of unrestrained hatred. I **felt** the collective flinch of her colleagues, as his words forged a new scar into their souls.

Detective Lyndsay's testimony was compelling, heartbreaking, but ultimately forgotten, as Yates forced her into Nadia's past. Her unconnected past pulled into the trial; almost becoming it's centerpiece, rather than her violent rape and murder. His smug arrogance grated terribly on me, as he forced Nadia's best friend to recount her history with drugs and prostitution. I tried to un-do some of the damage of his inflammatory story of a failed _'rescue project'_ , but the jury were not privy to what we knew. I knew this was starting to go badly, and again Lewis' spectre reared its ugly head.

A short recess did little for me, as I was accosted by Voight. I understood his helplessness, as he accused me of **_'letting'_**   Yates _'get away with smearing_ _Nadia like that?"_. I probably didn't help by reminding him that whilst we all knew Yates was a murderer and a rapist, _'the jury isn't privy to what we know, they all see the same charming man whose smile lured dozens of women to their deaths"._

I know I was so intent on protecting Liv, it may have seemed like I didn't care, like I didn't even have time to talk to her grieving colleagues, her family.

I know they heard me tell her, _'Liv, we need to prep, this is gonna be hard on you'._ They can't know all that lies behind that statement. They just saw an attorney more interested in his case than his victim.

Liv's testimony, again, probably didn't win us any points with the jury, despite the forensic evidence she was able to testify to, when Yates alluded to her collusion with the Chicago PD in clearing the brother of one of its officers of suspicion.

Again, I find myself remembering Lewis. I refuse to let this be a repeat of Lewis.

This is where I find myself now, struggling, despite my sustained objection, to listen to this psychopath tell the jury how he got in the car with Nadia because he _'believed Sergeant Voight was raping her'._

I can barely control my anger, my face telegraphing my feelings, my clenched fist doing nothing to relieve my pain and fury.

I can't imagine turning to face the rage I can feel resonating from the man who sits behind me, accused by this **monster** , of this excruciating horror.

I also can't imagine turning to face Rollins, this **animal** somehow cheapening her experience, by using his own concocted version to divert suspicion from his vicious rape and murder.

I object as much as I legally can, but even to me, it feels truly worthless.

I can feel the disappointment searing into the back of my head, even as I try to highlight the absurdity of his version of events.

That a woman would get into a car to drive half way across the country, with the man she knew was her department's main suspect in a series of rape murders, was nothing short of ludicrous, but it was not winning the jury over.

My rising despair is averted at the very last moment by his insistence on describing her supposed abuse by her Sergeant. His apparent arousal at these details, gives me an opening, a way in….

Rollins and Benson greet me as I exit the courtroom but their reassurance is unnecessary, as I confidently announce that the jury has not seen the real Greg Yates _, 'but they will…..'._

I recall Doctor Warner, peppering her with relatively inane questions. It must be torture for her team, listening to me getting Melinda to confirm _'she was assaulted in both places by the same man'_ and that _'both penetrations occurred around the same time'_. I silently beg for Nadia's forgiveness as I continue this charade, spreading post mortem photos of her, her injuries, across my desk.

I don't understand when my trust in one person became enough to gamble a whole case on a silent communication with that one person, but I feign a grand standing look to the gallery, leaving the photos tipped towards Yates. Not willing to risk him feeling my eyes on him, I look to Liv, silently asking her to confirm Yates' unwavering interest in the pictures. She gently, almost imperceptibly answers my barely there eye flick to Yates, with a nod, yes.

I hope my teasing gamble will pay off as I sit down. My heart is thudding as he and his attorney argue about his desire for a cross…

I start to dare to hope, as he overrules her and asks to examine the photos conveniently in front of him on my desk.

The slight quiver in his hands, the gently tracing finger, his dilating pupils all add to my ratcheting hope…..but it's not enough. I need him to completely unmask himself.

As Melinda answers his question she unwittingly lends fuel to the fire of his perversion, _"she was savaged…."._

_"Savaged, you say, how so?"._

I can see him reacting to the horrible details. His enjoyment at the disgusting images being painted by Melinda's testimony, increasing with each disturbing detail. I try not to envisage the agony on the faces of her team, in the gallery behind me, preferring to focus on the win that gets closer and closer with each of his sickening questions…

When the consternation becomes evident on Melinda's face, the judge interrupts, offering to _'entertain objection'_ if I have one.

I can't quite fully suppress my feelings as I answer _"I'm fine your Honor."_ A tiny smile ghosts my face for a second.

The judge looks shocked and confused.

I can feel Melinda Warner's eyes scorching into me with every disgusting fact he asks her to confirm, her confusion in my apparent uncaring, inaction all too clear in her features. I hope she, too, will forgive me when she understands...

With every question he asks, his sick, perverse, true self becomes clearer.

The increasing uncomfortable feelings of all observers, finally giving way to horrific understanding, as he finally unmasks himself completely, with his demands to know " _Would the terror, the fear have flooded her with adrenalin? Would she have awareness of what was going on? Would she understand that these were the final moments of her life?"._ A perverse, sick, satisfied smile lighting up his face at his last question.

His error clear now, even to him, he seats himself as the jury continue to squirm, looking uncomfortably, from him, to me, to the Judge, unsure how to process what they have just witnessed.

I don't even consider gloating, my joy at his unveiling, dissolving instantly. I know the agony I have caused her family as they had to sit and listen to this, I can only hope they will forgive me. Nadia's battered face stares lifelessly back at me from one of the photographs that led him to his own destruction.

Again, I'm reminded how every win with SVU is so tightly and bitterly intertwined with heartbreaking loss.

This time as the jury delivers its verdicts, the excruciating doubt is less than with Lewis. I'm confident that after his display, the jury has seen his true nature but I still find myself holding my breath…

_"On the charge of Rape and Sodomy in the first degree, we the jury find the defendant, Gregory Yates, **GUILTY**._

_On the charge of Murder in the first degree, we the jury find the defendant **GUILTY**."_

I can feel the collective, relieved, outpouring of breath as each verdict is read.

It's not joy, it's relief, that Nadia has seen justice. There is no joy, only agonizing loss, grief at the passing of a friend, a colleague, an innocent victim.

I turn and find Voight holding his hand out to shake mine. I can see he couldn't speak if he wanted to, but he gives me a gentle nod. I understand any issues we may have had, have all been nullified or settled by this verdict. The incredible depth of his pain, plays all too clearly on his craggy face.

Detective Lyndsay also shakes my hand mouthing the words _'Thank you'._

All I can see though is Liv. She tilts her head softly to one side, all the emotion flashing across her face makes it impossible to read any single one. She turns quickly and is gone before anyone has a chance to say anything.

The rest of the SVU squad file out, together, with their Chicago brothers nestled safely amongst them.

I try not to panic as I pack my belongings into my briefcase, but her agony filled eyes haunt my every move.

I feel that, even in this win, I have somehow failed her.

I step out into the hallway, fear crushing my heart as I see the squad and their Chicago counterparts, huddled together, making plans to go toast the verdict in Nadia's memory. Liv is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps unsurprisingly it is Fin who strolls over to me, his hand outstretched.

_"Congratulations Counselor."_

I nod as civilly as I can but the win is hollow, empty.

_"Liv left. She just seemed... overwhelmed. It's been so hard for her..."_ his candor and instinctive understanding shock me. His stare penetrates right through me.

I try to shake myself out of the shocked stupor his approach has thrown me into. I gulp, nodding my understanding. I begin to pull my coat on as his hand grasps my arm.

_"She has been through more than you can know..."_ my mind flashes back to her telling me how he saved her from Harris all those years ago.

Something about my face or posture must have given away my thoughts, he raises an eyebrow quizzically, _"...or maybe not..."_

I silently meet his eyes, a deep understanding passes between us.

_"Liv hates to need help. She needs someone to be there for her now..."_

My gratitude to this tough, prickly, man is almost overwhelming. I quickly drop my eyes for fear he will see the tears gathering there. I nod curtly. He pulls his hand from my arm, _"We'll be at Murphy's Bar tonight, tell her we expect to see her."_

With that he turns and walks back to the huddle of thankful police officers comforted by a just verdict.

My feet carry me unthinking to her door.

I can't even say how I got here, as my hand softly raps on the door.

Silence answers my gently knocking as I start to doubt my instincts. I reach for my phone, querying where else she would have gone, hitting her speed dial tentatively.

I jump slightly as her phone rings shrilly on the other side of the door. I hang up, tapping lightly on the door again. _"Liv, it's Rafael..."_ I start, immediately unsure how to continue, but I hear the locks start to click, the chain rattling slightly, as the door swings open. The door is barely open before she turns her back to me, heading to the couch, pulling her legs up as she curls herself into a ball.

I close the door carefully _, "Liv..."._

Her head raises slightly, her distress immediately evident, tears streaking her pale face.

_"Liv..."_ I repeat unconsciously, stepping towards her, my throat almost closing as I try to swallow the agony bursting out of my chest.

She raises a hand to stop my arms from wrapping around her. I slide down onto the couch beside her instead, too troubled by her distress to even register any feelings at her rejection.

_"What is it, Liv?"_ I hear a voice, similar to mine, but cloaked in emotion, ask her.

_"Oh Rafael,..."_ she starts quietly, _"I'm so glad really...you got him...you got her justice..."_

Her hand reaches out to me and I gratefully grasp it between mine.

_"I don't know why I'm..."_ she sobs and her confusion at her own state is clear.

_"It's ok Liv. It's ok. Just tell me what you're feeling. The fleeting little emotions that seem unconnected...tell me."_

She nods gently, her other hand gently wiping her tears.

_"I feel glad,...sick...she's still gone, nothing will change that...horrified at what she suffered, listening to the words being said out loud, somehow, make it more real...worried for Lyndsay and Voight..."_ the more she voices her feelings the easier it becomes, _"...relieved he can't do this again...sorry her past was thrown out there for everyone to judge...pain..."_ she doesn't seem to know how to explain her pain.

_"What else Liv...all of it?"_ I prompt gently.

Silence answers me. She looks deep in thought. The tears start to fall faster as a tiny voice whispers...

_"Envy...Resentment...Distrust...Betrayal...pain...actual pain...physical pain..."_

_"Where hurts Liv?"_ I prompt again, my voice barely audible with the depth of my own feelings.

She puts her hand in the center of her chest, _"here..."_ she mouths.

I squeeze the hand I hold, tightly. I know I need to keep gently pushing but it hurts...

_"Tell me about the envy, the resentment, the distrust, the betrayal..."_ I plead softly.

_"I'm glad for her, she didn't deserve any of this, no one could ever deserve any of this, the jury saw her suffering, they had to convict..."_

_"But..., Liv"_ I steel myself for what is coming.

_"I wanted the same. I'm envious. I'm envious of a raped and murdered woman?"_

I can see her disgust in herself, in what she is saying...

_"No Liv, you are not envious of her, you are envious of her justice, her verdict...her validation..."_ I feel a huge guilt land on my shoulders. I refuse to allow it though, this is about her, I know she doesn't blame me, and I won't allow my guilt to impede this. She needs to let this out. I somehow find calmness and allow it to swallow me. I gently tip her chin up until her wet eyes meet mine.

_"You resent the jury who didn't believe you?..."_

She nods

_"You distrust the system?"_

Again her head dips guiltily in agreement.

_"You feel betrayed by what you have worked your whole life for?"_

_"I feel betrayed by so much...by the system, by my mouth, that didn't make my testimony believable enough, ...by my body, for letting **him** surprise me in my apartment, for not letting me fight him off,...nobody knew I was missing, not my boyfriend, not my squad...nobody... I feel **rage**."_

Her words hurt but I understand them.

_"Liv, it's ok. They all make sense. You aren't angry at anyone, you are angry at the situation?"_

_"No Rafael, I am. I'm so angry...at **him** , ...at Lewis...and at Yates, at Harris, at Patton... sometimes they all seem like sides of the one person..."_

I swallow deeply, somehow surprised but also comforted by her rage.

_"They are in some ways, Liv. Different faces of evil..."_

She nods her agreement.

_"I feel betrayed by my squad, the department, but they didn't betray me, they did more than anyone could possibly expect, to get me back...and Brian, he was devastated by what happened, he couldn't get over the guilt...How can I feel betrayed by them?"_

I can see the seeming contradiction, but in my mind it's so clear, I'm almost surprised she can't see how it makes perfect sense.

_"Liv, you don't blame your squad, the department, Brian...you blame yourself...you feel betrayed by yourself for being angry at the situation that meant you were gone so long before anyone realized, ...you're worried that they didn't really care, but they did, they do care, but even the worry is enough to make you feel betrayed... "_

She collapses into herself as she tries to nod. I pull her to me, rocking gently as she sobs.

_"I really don't blame anyone but Lewis...and myself. In my head I know it's wrong but I can't stop it. I don't think its really blaming myself, I think it's just wishing, desperately wishing I had done something different, anything different, anything to change what happened...But I couldn't, I didn't really control it, so I couldn't change it..."_

I feel like the worst man in the world for putting her through all this but Fin's words echo in my head, _'Liv hates to need help'_ , and I know that no matter how cruel it may seem, I'm helping her.

_"No Liv, he had a gun, a knife, you were drugged, starved, drunk...you had no control..."_

_"But it wasn't just him, ...Harris...there's something wrong with me..."_

I can barely listen to her agony filled admission.

_"No Liv. There's nothing wrong with you. They were predators. Tell me, tell yourself, what you would tell anyone who said something similar to you when they were assaulted for a second time..."_

She sits in silence, broken only by sniffles and sobs...

_"Liv, I mean it, say the words..."_

_"I would tell them..."_

_"No Liv, tell yourself..."_

_"It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong. The only fault lies with them. You didn't deserve this and it shouldn't have happened...not to you not to anyone..."_ she looks at me, almost surprised at her own words to herself.

_"Liv, It's not **your** fault. **You did nothing wrong**. The only fault lies with them, with Lewis, with Harris . **You didn't deserve this and it shouldn't have happened**...not to you not to anyone..."_ I repeat her words back at her, insanely grateful that my prosecutorial training has taught me to repeat recently uttered words back with little effort. I know she needs to hear them again.

_" **They** assaulted **you**. **You did nothing wrong. You didn't deserve this and it shouldn't have happened. Lewis** assaulted **you.** **Harris** assaulted **you**. You bear no guilt in this."_

She breathes deeply, appearing to savor every word individually.

Again her tiny voice croaks through the silence, _"I really could have ended up like Nadia..."_

I can't even nod at her assertion preferring to gather her tighter into my arms, silently thanking whatever god saved her from this fate.

We sit there, like this, unmoving until the room starts to darken, as the sun glides across the sky towards its nightly withdrawal.

I selfishly want to stay as we are, but I know how important it is for her to participate in the planned wake for Nadia.

_"Liv..."_ I gently rouse her _"You need to get ready. The squad will be waiting for you."_

She looks at me questioningly.

_"They're meeting to toast the verdict, to toast Nadia's life...Murphy's Bar..."_

She nods. I can see the hurt in her eyes. I know it will be hard but I also know it's necessary, for her, for all of them. I also know she will be safe with them. They can give her something I can't, a shared experience, both good and bad, and shared remembrance of Nadia when she was filled with life, before it was cut short.

_"You all need to be there for each other."_ I finish gently.

_"It has to have been horrible for them all"_ she whispers, _"For Lyndsay and Voight to have to sit there and imagine those things being done to their friend,_ _their colleague...The guys were devastated too, and they're not great at letting out their feelings..."_ I raise an eyebrow at her, _"Don't give me that look,_ _Counselor, I'm getting better at it..."_ she smiles.  _"I don't want to think how hard it was for Amanda to hear the false accusations he directed at Voight..."_

She is all _'Bad-ass-Benson'_ now.

_"You should come"_ she offers, _"We have you to thank for Yates being locked up. You should be there."_

I shake my head decisively. She furrows her brow but knows that my decision is made.

_"If it's Hank, he just needed someone to battle, to get through it...you would be very welcome..."_

I chuckle lightly, _"I know, I knew what he was doing, I may have even partaken in the concept a little myself"_ I acknowledge with a smile.

I know I would be very welcome. I know nobody would question my right to be there, but they all lived their end of the experience together, she was alive, there was hope. My experience was removed, more solitary, shrouded completely in her death. I need to process it all, in my own way, alone.

She purses her lips, considering _, "Ok Rafael, you know where we are if you change your mind. Your really would be welcome. I'm here if you need me..."_

_"You took the words out of my mouth, Liv, **I'm** here if **you** need **me**..."_


	17. The healing begins

_"I can drop you off on my way, Liv?"_

I've wanted to try and talk to her since we found Nadia but with the trial there just hasn't been the time.

_"Thanks Amanda."_ She smiles gratefully, turning to say her goodbyes.

_"Well Hank, keep in touch"_ I'm shocked to see the grumpy Chicago Sergeant's face crack into a wide smile as his head nods, raising his once more refilled, glass to her.

_"It has been a pleasure to work with you Jay, sorry about the circumstances..."_ He too nods in answer, his eyes drifting down to the table in somber remembrance of what she alludes to.

_"Erin, you have my number, ...anytime...I'm so sorry about Nadia, take care of yourself."_ They hug tightly, both women struggling not to cry.

_"Guys!"_ she waves at a very drunk Carisi and a merry Amaro, rolling her eyes in Fin's direction.

_"I'll make sure they find their way home, Liv."_ Fin promises chuckling at his new-found charges, both of whom are suddenly, desperately, trying to appear much more sober than they are.

As we walk out into a fresh Manhattan night, we are reminded that summer is on the way, the streets are beginning to play host to people eating and sitting drinking coffee, not merely smokers huddled under heat lamps or bodies rushing through the cold to their next task.

She takes a deep breath, _"I enjoyed that. It wasn't what I expected. I really feel like I got to know her better."_

I completely agree, _"Yeah, I dunno, it kindda felt like she was there in some way? It was sad but also a celebration..."_

She smiles, but I can see the pain in her eyes.

_"I still can't really believe she's gone"_ she softly admits.

_"I thought we could save her..."_ I agree, as we sit into my car.

_"Amanda, I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk, you know you can call me, anytime, if you need to?" I nod. "I can only imagine how hard this has all been for you?"_ , she concludes.

How hard it has been for me? I can't believe she is worried about me. Her sincere concern for **me** , touches me deeply.

_"Liv, I've gone to see that therapist, a couple of times..."_

She turns to face me, _"Amanda, I can't tell you how glad I am. How do you find him?"_

_"He's good Liv. I was really worried, especially talking to your therapist, but he didn't make me uncomfortable. He told me I could see him, until he could refer me to another therapist. He has someone in mind, he says he thinks it will be a good fit, I have an appointment with him in two days when he returns from overseas, but Dr. Lindstrom says I can talk to him while I wait, if I want to... "_

_"Do you know anything about your new therapist?"_ she asks.

I nod _"His name is Dr. Whitford. He does a lot of work with victims of military rape, that's how he's overseas at the minute. I googled him...he looks about our age, he specializes in rape trauma."_

She smiles knowingly _"That makes sense, he sounds good. There is an overlap between us and the military...When I was assaulted before, I went to a support group for military sexual assault victims. My therapist, at the time, suggested it. It really helped, those women understood stuff that is pretty specific to us and them...Have you spoken to Dr. Lindstrom since we found Nadia?"_

_"Yeah I had an appointment made already, for the day after we found her. I wasn't going to go...I'm glad I did, it was hard but it helped..."_

_"Amanda, you are doing amazingly."_

I feel like a child, my face reddening at the unexpected compliment, as I bask in her approval.

_"I was sick after I finished interviewing Yates though"_ I admit tentatively, _"when you came looking for me and Fin..."_

_"That doesn't matter, it **was** sickening. What matters is that you spoke to your partner, you didn't try to keep it all inside."_

My questioning look is not missed " _No Amanda, he didn't say anything to me about it. Fin would never betray your confidence. Fin kept my secret about **my** first assault. Even when he knew it would have been in my best interest, he didn't break my confidence."_

I'm overcome by gratitude to my partner. His confidence in me, and his assurance that I was ok, had really been enough when she saw my tear stained face. I know he has my back, that he didn't tell anyone when he traced me down and I drunkenly told him some of the story about Patton, but knowing I really **can** trust him feels amazing. I can't help wondering what happened that he knew her secret, or who he kept that secret from..., but I don't need to know, knowing about her assault, about some of the feelings she has battled, is more than enough.

I'm worried I'm about to cross a line with my next question but I can't stop myself.

_"How about you Liv? Have you spoken to someone? I can't imagine how hard it has all been for you?"._

The anger I expected at me daring to question her is completely absent.

_"It has been really hard Amanda. I've needed a lot of help. I have spoken to a friend, a lot. He has been amazing. I've told him things I never thought I'd admit out loud. I've also made an appointment to speak to Dr. Lindstrom again. It has brought up a lot. I know now how lucky I really was, I could so easily have wound up in a shallow grave like poor Nadia..."_

I feel so honored that she would speak to me like this, as an equal. I know how difficult some of these admissions have to be for her. I know she is trying to be open and honest with me, so I can, in turn, be open and honest with her, knowing that she understands and isn't judging me.

_"Have you ever heard us talk about Dr. Huang, Amanda? He's an FBI shrink, he used to consult with SVU on a lot of cases. He was pretty much part of the team. We spoke to him many times...usually department mandated, but not always. He's the one who referred me to Dr. Lindstrom after Lewis. I reckon the brass is going to mandate a shrink appointment for us all after Nadia. I pre-empted them so we don't wind up with a 'quack', George will be in to talk to us next week."_

I chew my lip at this, uneasy at talking to a department shrink at the moment, hell, at any time.

_"He's not your regular department shrink Amanda, which is why I chose him. He knows what we do. I know my old partner tortured him terribly, refusing to talk, saying things he shouldn't, ...but George took it in his stride, he probably could have ended all our careers at one time or another... Hell, even Fin might talk to him."_

I laugh at this, unable to picture it but curious to meet the man who warrants such high praise from Liv.

I nod my acquiescence as Liv stifles a yawn.

_"You must be exhausted Liv. Let's get you home. Has Lucy got Noah?"_

_"Mmmmm yeah I haven't been sleeping great. Yeah, she'll have brought him home and put him to bed hours ago now."_ She smiles proudly at every mention of her son, even now, in her exhausted state she can't help the wide grin that graces her face.

After I drop her off at her apartment, I head home. I sit in my living room thinking over our conversation, amazed at how comfortably I can now, have conversations that would have been impossible only a handful of weeks ago. It's still not easy, I definitely filter heavily, I chose certain words so carefully it nearly softens my experiences, but it is progress.

I think about my first appointment with Dr. Lindstrom, well the first one I kept...

Sitting in the waiting room for those few short minutes was painful. As I had done the first time, I found myself clinging to a throw cushion for dear life, fighting the urge to run or vomit. My heart hammering too fast in my chest, my breathing too shallow to be satisfying, everything went into slow motion.

My own movements looked slowed down, as if on an old slow motion movie. I knew I had to be panicking, that these odd feelings were deep panic but it was so confused by the semi calm, absence of actual panic, that I began to think I might just be dying. If it got me out of that appointment I probably wouldn't even have minded too much.

I knew panic was the right description though when the door opened and he called my name. My fingers tightened unfeasibly around the throw cushion, my blood pumped so loudly in my ears, I almost expected to see my heart explode, I started to gasp for breath, not sucking enough in, no matter how much I tried, until I was breathing as fast as my heart was drumming.

I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't for him to come over and gently kneel on the floor beside me, his soft voice calming me with assurances that I was the one that was _'in control'_ , we could stay out here for as long as I wanted, everything we discussed would be in my control, and I was _'so brave'_ for coming to him. That was when the tears started, I didn't feel brave, I felt scared and ridiculous.

When I calmed down, he asked if I wanted to _'move into his office?'_ , he reminded me that it was all in **my** control and I nodded timidly.

The barrage of searching questions I expected, didn't come, as he poured me a glass of water and sat down in an armchair, gesturing for me to sit too.

_"Do you feel a little better Amanda?"_

_"I'm sorry..."_ I started to try to explain but he just brushed it away.

_"When something really scares you and you do it anyway, that's bravery"_ he gently reassured me.

_"Do you think you want to tell me what brought you to me?"_ he softly questions.

I knew this question was coming and I've spent a lot of time formulating and reformulating an answer. The question that I should have dreaded, puts me onto more solid ground. I anticipated it, I have almost prepared my answer, this doesn't seem like a bad place to start.

I took a few deep breaths, a few sips of water, prepared but still hesitant.

_"My sergeant, Olivia Benson, suggesting I talk to you for a referral,..."_

He just nodded gently in encouragement, as I found my voice.

_"Five years ago, I was sexually assaulted by my Deputy Chief in my old police department in Atlanta."_ I'm proud of my words, even now, as I think back to them. It was what had happened. I didn't try to take on part of the blame or excuse him. I didn't dither; it was clear, direct and accurate. I do realize it was also slightly softer than saying he raped me, but I still really struggle to say those words even though I now know, it is what he did.

He nods again _"Do you want to talk about that some more, Amanda?"_

I shake my head quickly, terrified at the thought of having to go into it.

_"That's ok. That's fine Amanda. We don't have to go into that now. So why did you come to me now?"_

Somehow this question came out of left-field for me. I just didn't know how to answer it. It already feels like I'm failing miserably. All the old feelings of being unworthy and useless start to bubble up, but before they can take hold he softly clarifies, _"Has something happened recently?"_

I start to tell him about Reese's rape, her trial, how Patton implied to our history. It all starts to tumble out. Not in the broad strokes I had envisaged but describing feelings and details. As the words pour out I realize that even with all the conversations I have had, some of this has been locked away deep inside, and I feel relieved to be letting it out...

I think back to my second visit, after we found Nadia's body.

How numb I felt as I sat in the waiting room. How pointless it seemed.

When he opened the door, I just sat debating whether I should bother going in. He softly offered to talk out there for a while if I wanted, reminding me how everything was in my control...

I snapped back at him, telling him nothing was in my control, that we can't actually control anything important. He looked at me thoughtfully, _"Has something happened, Amanda?"_. I just nodded. He asked would I like to come in and talk about it and I found my feet carrying me into his office.

The story of Nadia's Chicago abduction, her agonizing drive to Manhattan, her excruciating, subsequent fate, spilled out uncontrolled.

He didn't ask stupid questions, or shove tissues at me. He mostly just listened. When he did ask a question, it wasn't a big _'meaning of life'_ question, it was something I could usually answer, quite often something that validated my feelings or clarified some little detail for me.

I still felt hollow, numbed by the horror of Nadia's death but more understanding of my own feelings. It was a terrible thing that happened, it had to affect me, none of my reactions were ridiculous. It might seem like a small thing, but it gave me permission to grieve for her. It helped me. It made me feel less guilty when the tears came, and it felt like the grief was ripping me apart. I had felt that she wasn't **my** friend, **my** close colleague, I hadn't even been there when she was taken, I had no right to feel the grief that rightly belonged to those much closer to her than me. My tears, though heartfelt, were deemed by me to be somehow disingenuous, because of my comparative unfamiliarity. A few gentle words from Dr. Lindstrom reminded me that **I** had searched for her, **I** had watched her family, her team, suffer through that search, **I** had done anything I could for them, for her. **I** had looked on her broken body in its sandy, shallow, grave **with** her family. **I** had shared their agony at being unable to save her. I wasn't a distant observer in their agony, I had lived a lot of it with them.

He didn't look shocked as I tearfully confessed to being smothered by guilt at being grateful it was Nadia we discovered in a cold, barely-covered, hole and not my sergeant, **my** friend.

He showed no sign of knowing why my sergeant would be at risk of such a fate asking instead _"Why do you worry about finding your sergeant in a grave?"._

I hadn't ever said the words out loud, there had never been a need to, we all knew how close it had been, but I found myself grateful to whisper the words that had been laying so heavily on me.

_"Nearly two years ago, she was kidnapped, driven across the state, tortured, horribly assaulted, he did things...things I can't even imagine, we worked so hard to find her when we knew she was missing...but we didn't know she was gone for **two** days...she managed to get free and call us, we wouldn't have found her otherwise,...she could have been killed before we found her...he threatened to kill her...she could have died,...we could have lost her..."_

_"That sounds horribly close to what you just described happening to Nadia, Amanda. I don't see how you could **not**..."_

His simple words easily, validating the worries that have been tormenting me. I think back to Nick's words _'The stuff that rolls around your head, it's too hard to know what is truly important, what is fear or anger, and what is just plain untrue...they help with that.'_ I think I'm beginning to experience that, and I don't feel as judged, as vulnerable, as laid out on display, as I had expected to feel.

I can't help but also remember his next words; _'They tell you that sometimes what you are feeling is a valid feeling, but the basis for it is false, and then they help you work through the feeling anyway...'_ I know that is still to come, the confused feelings I can't get rid of, the unending guilt at my own part in what Patton did...

I swallow the fear that rises as I imagine having to talk about what happened...

**Call it what is Amanda.**

Emboldened by my two short sessions I force myself to admit my reticence at using the word that is second nature at work.

No, not what happened, not the bad situation I put myself in, not my sexual assault...my **rape**.

I find myself saying the words out loud to myself. Sitting on my couch, with Frannie, I find myself repeating the word _, "I will have to talk about my **rape**...I will have to describe my **rape**...I will have to **relive** my **rape**..."_

And then the tears are back, plunging quickly down my face. All the strides forward I felt I had made, crumble as if they were taken on rotten, fragile, aged, dissolving, stones that could never have held my weight.

_"Frannie, this is going to be so hard..."_ I tell my affectionate companion, _"it's going to so hard...but I need to do it...I have no choice...I can't keep going like this..."_

 


	18. How's she really doing?

_"Ready Detective?"_ I ask.

The silent nod that greets me already worries me that all I have to look forward to on this journey is an occasional nod or shrug.

If I'm completely honest, I don't know what to do with the man that sits before me. It's not that I dislike him, I don't and I can't even look at him anymore without silently thanking him for saving Liv from Harris, I just have never **really** spoken to him.

I just can't help wishing that I had anyone else with me. Ok well maybe not **anyone** else.

It doesn't help either of our moods that the inflexibility of this D.C. court date has meant that we will both miss Noah's Dedication Ceremony. A distant case, we were barely and very temporarily a part of. Whose details we struggle to remember without our files and statements to prompt us, but whose effect, like all of them, has somehow contributed to who we have become. Yet again, the personal cost to us, seems too high. Liv has made it very clear that she understands but I wanted to be there for her, I know that Fin feels the same.

Well at least the silence means I can try and clear a backlog of paperwork on the journey, I try to console myself.

My files litter the small table between us as I prep the upcoming Johnny D case. I see Fin furrow his brow as he reads the upside down files, to see what I'm working on. As always when I am out of the safety of my office, I have removed pictures, evidence, anything that does not belong in civilized society. I am conscious of the dignity of our victims, and the sensitivity of any members of the public who may cross my path. He mutters and curls his lip in disgust as he remembers the case. He shoves a pair of earphones into his phone and then twists them into his ears, laying his head back against the seat headrest.

I look at him for a moment, slightly jealous of his relaxed state.

I sigh softly, before refocusing myself on the files in front of me, making cryptic looking notes, as I wade through the forest of paper.

I start well, but pretty soon I find myself staring aimlessly out the window as the train powers towards D.C.

I'm shocked out of my daydreaming, when I hear a voice ask, _"How's she really doing Counselor?"_. He is wrapping the headphones around his hand, shoving them back into the coat pocket they appeared from.

For a moment I'm at a loss, like I'm only party to the tail end of a conversation and then I realize he is asking about Liv. I flash to our short conversation after Yates was found guilty of Nadia's horrible rape and murder;

_"Liv left. She just seemed... overwhelmed. It's been so hard for her..."_

_"She has been through more than you can know..."_

_"...or maybe not..."_

_"Liv hates to need help. She needs someone to be there for her now..."_

It's only now as I replay it in my head, I realize that I contributed nothing more than nods and looks to that exchange. I have had the audacity to accuse **him** of being functionally mute, and I contributed no words whatsoever to the deepest, most important, conversation we have ever had.

I understand he doesn't waste words unnecessarily and can be a little blunt, from my observations of his interactions with others so maybe it's me.

I look at his penetrating stare, the concern in his eyes and immediately dissuade myself from any childish, futile, _'how would I know'_ , styled answer. I remember instead, how he was the one that directed me to her, again feeling immense gratitude, when I think back to how distressed she was...

_"Nadia's death has hit her hard. It brought up a lot of feelings of...Lewis"_ I shrug in frustration.

He nods knowingly. I realize that this is an opportunity to better understand what she was faced with on that beach. I have read all the files but it's not cold facts I need.

_"How bad was it Fin...the beach, the search, all of it?"_

He breathes in deeply at the memory.

_"Bad, real bad..."_ I think that is all I'm going to get, as he looks carefully around him. His body sinks deeper into his seat as his head leans into me.

_"She kept it together, I don't know how. Man, **I** nearly lost it."_ A hand reaches up and rubs his face. He briefly closes his eyes in pained remembrance.

Guilt plays softly across his features as he faintly confesses _, "She kept grimacing when she thought no one was looking, on the beach, when we were searching,... it took me forever to figure it out...it was the sounds..."_

I look at him blankly as I desperately search my brain for any clue to what sounds he could be referring to. There was no screaming, no shooting,...from what I can tell there could only be the sounds of the search and that shouldn't be too triggering for her as she wasn't a part of her own search...I look to him questioningly.

_"The beach sounds..."_

**Oh god.**

Of course... She was cuffed to a bed in a **beach house** as he tortured her, threatened her, beat her, assaulted her. Her senses would have been heightened by fear. Anytime he left her, she would have been listening for his return, hearing the sounds of the beach...

My hands run across my face in horror as I start to appreciate how bad this really was. How I can never **begin** to understand, despite knowing so much about what Lewis did to her, what she really went through. I have always known she held back details, some of them I can speculate at, some of which I understand that she could not tell the ADA for her case, but I will never have any understanding of what she experienced.

How many times had she tried to distance herself from the agonies he was forcing on her body? Did she try to distance herself by listening to the _'calming sounds of the ocean'_? I try not to imagine what she must have been feeling on that beach while they searched frantically for the body of their colleague...

Her desire to bathe the moment we arrived back at my apartment flashes through my mind again. I knew there was more to it than just washing away the dirt of a hard day but not this much, I could never have even guessed...

For a moment I am lulled into complete silence. The everyday noises of the train fading into nothing as I consider how even the most insignificant details continue to add to her suffering. I know the power of sounds and smells in a traumatic experience and how they can suddenly pull an unsuspecting victim back into the grip of their attacker but yet I can admit to being amazed at how I never even considered this. Once again I'm reminded how little I understood until it became more personal, more real ...

He scrunches his face in disgust as he thinks back, I nod for him to continue...

_"You saw the pictures, but when we found her...no picture can describe it..."_

I nod. Knowing that whilst she was looking at the body feeling all that has to have assaulted her... the cop side of her would have been cataloguing her injuries extrapolating their possible causes, mentally speculating as to what kind of weapons they may be looking for...

I cannot bear to imagine the memories her red-circled wrists would have brought back to Liv.

_"The worst though was when he sat in interrogation and told us what he had done to her, to Nadia...her face...I don't wanna ever see that face again...”_

I've seen the footage of the interview. I know how he taunted them. I can only imagine how Liv would have taken the news... The shock, the disbelief at Nadia's proclaimed fate...the pain...

We both studiously return to our previous positions watching the country slide by our window, both seeing a very different scene to that in front of us.

Neither of us make any attempt to rekindle conversation. Avoiding, even, the eye contact that may inadvertently lead to some silent communication. Both of us preferring to wrap ourselves in our personal agonies.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window as we pass through an underpass, the temporary external darkness causing the window to mirror my image. As always when I work, I have thrown off my suit jacket, my vest is fully unbuttoned, my tie is pulled loose and my top button is open widely. My hair shows signs of my hands having nervously run through it as I pictured the scenarios his words conjured. My face is pale, my eyes deadened by my despair.

I don't even look in his direction as I ask, _"Why do you do this?"._

I see his reflected image shrug wordlessly at me.

I don't know what I expected him to say but I find myself irritated at the silence that greets my heartfelt question. Could he not even say _‘we make a difference'_ or _'to help them'_ , hell even, _'somebody has to'_? And then I understand, he won't cheapen my query with a clichéd answer. I search my own mind for the reason that I do this job. I know we do make a difference, much more than we would in robbery, or even homicide, our victims are so often still there to experience their win, to celebrate it. That acknowledgement crashes into despair as I'm reminded how they are also there to experience the crushing defeats. I try not to allow their faces to invade my brain, the faces of those we couldn't get justice for, the faces that haunt me...I understand in that instant how there is no answer to my question, we do it because we have to...

_"How do you go home, have a normal life, have...relationships...?"_ I ask, my eyes unconsciously moving to my groin...

I look up after a moment's silence to see his narrowed eyes searching my face.

_"We don't have normal lives, most of us, we're not married, and.. **.relationships**...sometimes you just can't."_

I look at him and we both understand that we are talking about the physical side of relationships, he has understood the real question in my query.

I nod, wordlessly validated, but slightly despairing at this newly gleaned information.

_"It doesn't last..."_

He adds as he watches my despair. He unknowingly echoes Liv's words that it can be hard to leave what we see behind us at the end of the day, but that

_'This really strong feeling doesn't last, you will probably always have the 'SVU mindset', that extra cautiousness. How can we not, with what we see? This fear though, it fades,... some cases will always bring it back but it's never as bad again.'_ Her soothing, honest words are burned into my soul. Somehow though another **man** confirming them makes me feel substantially better.

_"It's been really rough,"_ he states _"what with Patton, and then Yates...it's been a lot..."_

Again, in the spirit of his words, he unintentionally, echoes Liv, _'it's not the same when you know them'_. I understand him better now. It's not that he doesn't talk, he does, you just have to listen very carefully between the words... I nearly laugh as I realize we are currently having the archetypal conversation between two men. So much of the conversation is left unsaid, and alluded to, so as to be nearly indecipherable.

I'm loathe to break Liv's confidence, unsure as to what I should say...but understanding that, in Fin, I am talking to someone that shares my concern, my protectiveness of Liv. He has taken over since Cragen's departure, watching out for her, as an all-seeing protective big brother.

I know how much he must have struggled with whether he should say anything to me after the verdict in the Yates trial. I recognize the huge compliment inherent in his trust in me, in my ability to be there for her. I know he also has suspicions that Liv told me something about Harris, and much as I don't want to say anything, I see the value in allowing him to know that someone else knows what she has been through, that someone else is aware...

_"Yeah, it's brought back a lot...about Lewis...Harris..."_

To his credit he shows absolutely no surprise at my confirmation. His eyes narrow at me, and he seems to be evaluating why I seemingly broke her confidence...

_"She told me you were the one to save her..."_

I whisper the words softly, my gratitude clear in them. I hope he can understand that I'm also trying to tell him, I know his part in what happened, I want to protect her too.

He seems content with this explanation, satisfied in my motivations.

He echoes his words from just after the Yates trial _"She has been through so much..."._

We both nod in shared understanding.

_"So has Rollins..."_ I tentatively add. Unsure if my more distant relationship with Rollins allows me this familiarity, in his eyes.

Again he seems to weigh my motivations, studying me deeply for any indication of malicious intent. Again he doesn't seem to find any as he nods _"She's doing better..."_

I can't control the relieved smile that graces my features at this confirmation.

A comfortable silence descends upon us, both of us, again, lost in our thoughts, remembering...

Our journey flashes by us, our window playing witness to its progression as the scenery changes constantly.

I stand slowly, stretching out my muscles gently, _"I need caffeine, coffee Fin?"_

He nods gratefully as I make my way to the restaurant car.

On my short walk, I can't help reflecting on my wholly unexpected conversation with this quiet man. I'm immensely grateful for his candor, for his implied trust in me. I'm reminded how lucky I am to have been accepted into this unorthodox family. That whilst our sacrifices for our job are many, we have also gained, in each other, possibly more than we than we have lost.


	19. Counselor, is it true?

Somehow the gentle knock on the door is both anticipated and a complete shock, when it finally comes, as I look up to find Rollins standing in the doorway of my office.

I knew someone from the squad would be over, it was inevitable when they heard that Johnny D was claiming we had a vendetta against him, that Liv was out to get him. I thought it would be a rage filled Fin or Amaro, rushing into my office uninvited. I have been quietly dreading it for the last few hours, silently trying to plan my part in the expected sparring match. I never thought Amanda would be the one to come. As I have watched night fall slowly, over the city through my window, and heard the sounds of the building emptying, through my door, I had begun to hope that I would be spared the angry onslaught for today. Now I find myself confronted by Amanda, and I start to wish it were a seething Nick or Fin instead. An almost shouted, row is much easier than a quiet, disappointment filled, reasonable, conversation.

I think she has been very happy to keep me at arm's length since Patton. I can only assume that I remind her of her attempt to testify, or the trial, or just the whole, sorry, affair. I understand it. I don't blame her, I still sometimes, feel pangs of my own guilt when I look at her...so I am truly surprised now, that she has come to see me, alone, at night.

 _"Detective, come in...what can I do for you?",_ I try to sound relaxed, but the tiredness of earlier, has slowly morphed into a bone numbing weariness that has spread from my body into my mind as the day has progressed, making me sound as drained as I feel.

If it had been Fin or Amaro I would have been geared up for a fight but I feel less sure of myself with Rollins.

 _"Counselor, is it true?"_ she asks disbelievingly.

I nod bitterly, _"Yes, he has submitted a motion for dismissal of all charges on the grounds that Liv's pursuit of Johnny D was 'motivated by her desire to deny his parental rights'. He's trying to say we have a vendetta against him..."._

I fall back into my chair, shaking my head. My words still sounding unbelievable even to my own ears.

_"He really is Noah's father? How did he even find out?"_

Dammit! I knew it was a mistake when Liv told me she had decided to name Johnny D as Noah's birth father on the adoption papers.

I allowed myself to be swayed by her agonized allusion to Lewis, when she pointed out _"Lying doesn't work out well for me..."._ The reminder of her agony, enough to allow me to believe she has already had more than one person's share for a lifetime. I understood that she didn't want her life with Noah to be built on a lie, but I should have stopped her somehow.

She is too good, too fair, how could I not have done more to stop her, convinced her better...? How did I not see this coming?

How did I believe for even one second that Family Court and Johnny D were separate universes, and that he would never find out?

_"Liv named him on Noah's adoption papers, she didn't want her life with Noah to be built on a lie..."_

She shakes her head in disbelief, plopping into the chair in front of me with a big sigh at my soft, understated, words. My immense frustration hardly even hinted at in my tired, quiet, measured words.

 _"When did you find out...?"_ she questions open mouthed.

I glare at her, scowling, one eye-brow raised, in what I hope is a very clear 'leave that alone' gesture...

_"Sorry, no, of course, stupid question I definitely didn't ask..."_

She sits there deep in though for a few minutes.

 _"Can we do anything?"_ she asks softly.

 _"I'm doing everything I can, I've called in some favors..."_ I shrug helplessly.

She nods, _"We know you'll do everything you can...If we can do anything?..."._

I nod quickly. Her squad would do anything for her.

We sit silently trying to process this latest twist in Johnny D's quest to escape having to face justice for his horrible crimes.

I can't help remembering my fury when I heard that the whole squad had gone undercover, with the mother Martha, in tow, to try and find her missing daughter Ariel. How we argued our very different viewpoints, furious at the other's lack of ability to see sense.

How my anger was forgotten as her perseverance resulted in Ariel and her mother being happily reunited, and three other innocent girls being freed from hell.

I can't help thinking about the statements I have committed to memory in advance of his trial, the horrors he forced upon so many women. How grateful I am that the team, have taken him off the streets.

All of a sudden she seems to realize where she is, and who she is talking to, and she seems to get nervous, fidgeting and twisting in her chair before getting to her feet, _"I should let you get back to it, Counselor. Good night"_ she whispers, her face downcast, partly shrouded in blonde hair. She starts to walk towards my door, chewing her bottom lip anxiously.

 _"Amanda, wait..."_ I call to her, walking around my desk before she has a chance to leave. Her eyes flick up uncertainly in my direction as I move towards her. I quickly raise my hands and take a seat in the chair beside the one she has just vacated, gesturing again to it, _"Please talk to me for a minute..."._

Her anxiousness seems to step up a gear as she hesitantly retakes her seat.

Her body is tense and I can't help but wonder is she afraid of me.

 _"How are you Amanda?"_ I ask carefully, trying to make eye contact, to reassure her I won't hurt her.

She squirms a little in the seat, and I really start to worry that she is afraid I will hurt her.

_"I'm sorry Amanda, I don't want to make you uncomfortable...we just never spoke about...I'm sorry, I wouldn't hurt you, please don't be afraid of me."_

I can hear the shakiness in my own voice as she raises her head and makes direct eye contact with me.

 _"God, Barba, I'm not afraid of you. I would never think you would hurt me..."_ she spits out quickly, in her best 'don't be ridiculous' tone.

I know my face shows my confusion and slight irritation at her overly firm rejection of my fear.

She sighs deeply, her face crinkling in frustration.

 _"I'm embarrassed!"_ she announces calmly.

My face falls in absolute confusion now. This is not a scenario I had considered and my mind struggles to explain why she would be embarrassed.

She rolls her eyes, frustrated that I don't understand her.

_"About Patton,...I never meant to tell you all that...it just sortta slipped out...You were so nice to me...You didn't push me or treat me differently...but I'm embarrassed...I didn't want you to see me like that..."_

Her voice falters a little as she finishes...

_"Rollins, you have nothing to be embarrassed about... **nothing**..."_

I try to reassure her, slightly dumbstruck that she would feel embarrassed at all. Of all the emotions I envisaged her directing towards me, this is the one that had I thought of it would have sent a cold shiver down my spine as it is doing now... I'm worried that a part of her still blames herself...

She is biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes flicking between her feet and me.

I lean gently towards her, _"Amanda..."_ I wait until she is looking me in the eye before continuing, _"When you told me during prep, what happened with Patton, what he did to you...I was horrified by what you had to suffer...I was astounded by your strength, I don't know how you dealt with it on you own for all that time...I apologize for not speaking to you about it afterwards, but I didn't want to force you into an uncomfortable conversation,... I was worried I reminded you of what happened...and I knew you wouldn't want to be treated differently, I tried, maybe too hard, to treat you normally."_

She is smiling at me timidly, _"I can't tell you how much it meant to me that you didn't treat me differently..."_

She pulls a leg under her, turning to me,

_"I guess after a while went by, I knew you had told me your door was open for me and Liv had made it clear you would be happy if I took you up on it, but I didn't know how to start the conversation, so I started to slightly avoid you, and then too much time had passed and I was embarrassed...You saw me starting to lose it, when I was telling you about my assa...my **rape** , ...I laid all of this on you with no warning,...regardlesssly you offered to help me but I'm still too worried about what you must think of me...I'm a cop, who couldn't protect herself...I didn't even fight..."_

Again I'm floored by her thinking I would judge her negatively, somehow, for her experience.

_"Amanda, you did fight...but he was bigger and stronger, he used that...you survived...you did protect yourself, from the further harm he could have done you...I don't doubt your abilities or your judgment."_

She nods and I can see she is mulling my words over but she has not quite gotten to the point where she can fully accept them.

_"Amanda, I understand it's not easy to talk about it, and we haven't really talked a lot outside of work. I know I'm a bit hard to get to know... I just wanted you to know I'm here if I can do anything for you. Please don't feel embarrassed, I am sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry I couldn't get your testimony admitted because you deserved to be heard."_

This seems to resonate with her somehow, she nods again but there is more conviction in the gesture this time.

_"How do you feel about the deal we made with him, Amanda?"_

I want to know, I really do, but also the fear of her reaction lies heavy across my chest and I nearly stop breathing...

 _"In a lot of ways it was more than I expected...but I can't help the feeling he kindda got off a bit too lightly..."_ she sighs.

I nod in fervent agreement, _"He should have been locked up for what he did to you, to Det. Taymore, but the evidence wasn't as strong as I would have liked and I couldn't make the case..."_ My failure is still a huge sore point for me.

_"I'm glad he's not a cop anymore though, that he's on the register, he can't hurt anyone else...It helped to hear him admit he did something wrong..."_

Her words are so soft now, I can barely hear her, but I can't stop a small smile as she says that his admission had the effect I had hoped it would.

_"I know I'm lucky, I got a lot more justice than I ever thought I would...after all that time...when I never reported it...when I destroyed the evidence...I never thought anyone would ever care..."_

I want to interject, to tell her how much her sergeant, her squad and I care but I can feel she needs to say this so I bite my tongue...

_"I expected that when it all came out, after Reese,...I thought it would be like Atlanta...I'd be called a slut, be seen as **less**...but all _ _I've felt is support, understanding...people have been upset for me..."_

She stops, chewing the inside of her cheek, considering her next words...

 _"It almost makes it harder,...it makes what he did worse...when no one cared...it made it less...serious"_ she shrugs dismissive of her own words and the feelings they reflect.

I understand this statement. It's like somehow having people care makes all the times when no one cared even worse.

 _"It is hard to open up when you're used to taking care of yourself..."_ I finish for her.

She nods, thankful that I understand.

 _"The fear that you will open up, start to rely on other people...if they betray that trust, you wouldn't be able to cope...it'd be too much..."_ I continue gently.

I sound like the frightened niño from el barrio, and this admission terrifies me, but I know how vulnerable she must feel sitting in this office, my office, trying to be open. I know how much this could mean to her, this acknowledgment that I share her fears...

I see tears in her eyes as she looks at me.

She takes a deep breath, looking me in the eye as she says, _"It is scary...but it's worth it..."_

We both smile in reassured understanding.

After a few moments her voice brings me back to reality _. "Johnny D is going to try and use Noah to somehow get out of this isn't he?"_

He's going to try, but I'm going to fight him. I will not let Liv suffer anymore. I will not fail her again.

I nod.

_"Counselor she has suffered so much, more than any one person can be expected to bear...Noah means more to her than anything...we cannot let him be taken from her."_


	20. I have no idea how I feel

I have no idea how I feel.

All these emotions are inside me but I have no idea how I feel.

I don't think I'm numb...I think I'm feeling too much.

I've just put Noah to bed. Lucy has just left.

Why am I sitting on the floor beside a perfectly comfortable sofa?

I almost feel drunk.

I don't know how else to explain it.

I know I'm feeling...the tears plunging down my face, that I have absolutely no control over, show that, but I can't identify even one emotion.

It's as if two different tracks have been sewn together, a video track of tears and a blank emotional track...

I feel blank.

I can't feel why I'm crying...

Is it relief? Nick is going to be ok. He's going to spend a lot of time in PT but he's alive...Johnny D is gone, there is no one left to keep Noah from me...we lost an officer and had a few people injured, but my team are safe...

Is this what a nervous breakdown feels like?

I've never felt anything like this before...except I have, ...this empty, odd silence...I have felt this before...

I desperately don't want to remember it, but I have felt this before. When the gun went off...when I tried to squeeze my eyes closed, frantic to not have **his** face be the last thing I ever saw...

It must be shock...

I was told then, that I was in deep shock.

I've never understood why I was in shock then... **he** was gone,... the danger was passed,... And why not the first time **he** took me? Surely what happened then was more worthy of shock?

Why would I be in shock now?

I was fine...I'd jumped into action immediately, as the situation escalated.. exactly as I'd been trained to. Ariel had been testifying, courageously telling a courtroom full of people how Johnny D had beaten her, raped her...women, led by Pilar, had started to heckle her, we tried to remove them from the courtroom when Judge Barth ordered the gallery cleared, ... Johnny D grabbed the court officer and took her gun.

I know I had my gun out as fast as everyone else... I saw him shoot the court officer beside me, then the judge...I tried to stop Nick from following him into the hallway, where he had dragged the stunned female court officer, his unwilling hostage, her brown eyes pleading for help from us, as her mouth hysterically tried to form words...

I couldn't be in shock now. If I went into shock it would have been when I thought Nick was dead, when the shots rang out behind the closed doors, flashes popping through the opaque, crosshatched, glass, ...When I heard bodies falling as people scrambled frantically for safety...When

I was covered in Nick's blood, as I tried to stop the red stickiness pooling beneath him ...Or when he was taken away to an ambulance, Amanda running to ride with him, as I continued to take inventory...Running into a desolate courtroom, strewn with shoes and blood soaked clothing, to find Rafael calmly tending to the Judge, his hands soaked in red, before she too was wheeled away on an ambulance gurney.

Ariel was in shock.

Her pale face frozen as she looked blankly ahead of her, her arms wrapped tightly across her hunched body, as if she couldn't even consider moving from the chair I can only assume Rafael sat her into...

Surely if I was going to go into shock it would have been when I realized how this incredibly traumatised, young woman had just been through even more trauma...

Or when I went back into the hallway to find Carisi crouched down beside the body of the fatally wounded court officer who Johnny D had pulled out of the courtroom as his human shield...

Or when I saw Fin, kneeling gingerly beside a huge streaked bloodstain, confirming that Johnny D was dead, that Amaro had gotten him. He had asked the dread laced question, was Nick gonna make it?, a question I couldn't answer...

Or even, when we stood for an eternity as doctors performed surgery on Nick, and we waited hopefully, in a hospital waiting room crowded with police officers, all uselessly standing around with agonized looks on their pasty, shock filled, faces.

Why would I be in shock now? Now, when I'm safely home, in my own apartment, my son sleeping safely, in his bed a few feet away from me...?

Why don't I feel anything?

The images of all these events continue playing in a mixed up, out-of-order jumble, but still, I don't feel anything.

I should feel worry. Relief. Fear at what could have been. I'm crying so I should feel some sort of upset...or frustration, I more often cry from frustration.

Why am I so calm?

If I'm in shock why am I so calm?

Again, I can't help remembering the emptiness that filled me as my team came running up the stairs, freeing me from the table I was secured to, but being unable to free me from my own mind... my blood spattered face frozen in disbelief that the gunshot hadn't killed me. I can't forget how my empty head bobbled along to the Amaro-aided motion of my body, the muscles struggling to control its random movement. That feeling of being disconnected, like a puppet who has ripples and tugs of strings rather than thought, controlling jerky, uncoordinated motions.

I am in shock, that's the word, that's how I feel... **disconnected.**

I still don't understand why I'm in shock **now**. As before, when his body and blood littered the floor by my feet, the danger is passed...

I sit silently in my disconnected state, blissfully unaware of how much time has passed until the numbness starts to fade and the feelings I wanted so desperately to be able to feel, start to batter me.

I immediately regret my wish. Preferring the serenity of numbness to this tumultuous storm.

Now the feelings assault me viciously, each one hammering me a few times, in turn, the next one taking its place before I can properly identify the one that preceded it.

I feel the fear, the unrelenting terror that Nick was dead. That I wouldn't be able to stop the flow of blood pumping out non-stop between my white fingers...

The panicked alarm that more than just Nick was down...as I ran around slowly counting everyone safely off...

The dread that cut off my breathing momentarily as I saw Rafael's blood covered hands...

The agony that Ariel had been subjected to a further horror, that she would likely carry for the rest of her days...

The relief that every one of my team, except Nick is ok, and he is in the hands of doctors, and will be ok in time...

I now, enviously long for my previous state, as emotions continue to slam me around mercilessly. I lumber excruciatingly between all the previously desired emotions, powerless now to rebuff them.

I can't refuse the increasingly agonizing mosaic of what-ifs that torture me with their possibilities.

I could have been killed, leaving Noah alone again...

The wound to Nick's torso could have penetrated his heart rather than his liver.

It could have been Amanda who was shot. Or Fin, or Carisi.

He could have turned the gun on Rafael instead of the judge...

I could have lost him. My friend. Rafael, the man who held me in almost this spot, gently comforting me, as I sobbed away my pain at Nadia's loss. The man who I have told secrets, I never intended to disclose. The man who I wish was here now...

This thought startles me. Where did that come from?

Well that's clearly a stupid thing to say. I know exactly where that came from...I kissed him only a few short weeks ago. I like him. He's the kindest, nicest man, I have probably ever met but it's never going to be anything more.

I kissed him in a moment of madness. His kiss was tender, delicious,... but it was enough.

Somehow this acknowledgment has lost the power to shock me. I used to really enjoy sex. I was never particularly promiscuous but I enjoyed it. I was never prudish; I always knew how to enjoy my partner...until Lewis.

It took a while to be willing to try sex again, after Harris. I was terrified that my partner would scare me, I would ask him to stop, and he wouldn't. I was afraid that when actually faced with a male member, I wouldn't be able to separate myself from the image of Harris stood in front of me, his pants around his ankles. I was anxious that in the terror of that moment in that Sealview basement, I had somehow lost the ability to be turned on enough to get past the associations it left in my mind. It took time, a lot of patience and humiliating failed attempts, before I re-found my sexuality. I may not have been the same as I was before, but I was capable of finding pleasure again, in the act that had terrified me.

After Lewis was finished with me, though, there was nothing left. He obliterated whatever I had slowly pieced back together after Harris. Brian was eternally patient, but there was no desire there.

I tried to speak to Doctor Lindstrom about it, and he told me that I would heal at my own pace, I couldn't rush it, that I needed to re-familiarize myself with my own body, with what I enjoyed... I'm an adult, an SVU detective, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him I was completely unsuccessful at pleasuring myself. Even after Harris, the basic urges were still there but those feelings seemed to be completely gone from my mind and body when Lewis was done with me.

My second time in his clutches, perhaps doing even more damage than I cared to admit. I put myself in that position, I expected to be raped and killed, I didn't care. I said that I had played dead because I knew he needed me to fight him for him to be able to take his pleasure, this was only partly true, I just couldn't do anything other than stand there. My fear completely overwhelmed me. I froze again.

My body has begun to recover, to heal, now that over a year has gone by since I stood covered in his blood, tied to a table, but my mind lags far behind.

I can't imagine sex anymore. Well that's not true, I can, as an abstract...

A few weeks ago when I found my lips on Rafael's, I thought, that maybe I had just needed more time. I enjoyed the feel of his lips against mine, his tongue against mine, but... I didn't want anymore. What was once a precursor to a myriad of pleasures, was now enough for me.

I'm sure that Rafael would be gentle, considerate of not pinning me down, not making me feel trapped if things were to progress, but what if I couldn't do it? What if I panicked? I couldn't allow him to worry for a second that he did something unwanted... He was so distraught at the worry that he could hurt a woman, after Rollins' heartbreaking disclosure, how could I be responsible for doing that to him? I already feel like I may have irrevocably damaged Brian's sexuality, that because of me, he has lost something of himself, how could I allow myself to ruin another man like that?

He deserves someone he can have a full relationship with.

Besides if Rafael really had any interest in me, I'm sure he wouldn't have been so happy to just kiss, like that. I believe a man like him would have gently, tried for more. I don't know why he kissed me back...

But yet at this moment I long to feel his arms wrapped tightly around my body, to feel my face snuggled against his strong chest, to smell his unique scent in my nose.

I try not to allow myself to imagine lying in his comforting embrace as his presence helps ward off the ghosts that still try to disturb my sleep.

I don't allow myself to consider how his skin would feel against my scarred body.

I'm not ready, but I thought I might be getting close, that I could maybe imagine trying again, with him,...

A sound enters my consciousness, I'm dimly aware it has been getting progressively louder for the past few seconds...

**Shit, someone is banging on my door...**


	21. You're ok

A sound enters my consciousness, I'm dimly aware it has been getting progressively louder for the past few seconds...

Shit someone is banging on my door...

I hastily rub the tears from my face, running my hands quickly through my hair and straightening my shirt as I leap for the door, before it wakes Noah. I can't help wishing that I'll open the door to find Rafael there.

I quickly check who it is, standing back in surprise when I see it is, in fact, Rafael. I check again, disbelieving, as if my desire could have conjured him out of thin air.

I click open the lock, stumbling with the chain, as I try to remind myself that this is not my brain's convoluted version of events, this is cold, hard, reality.

I pull open the door, looking closely at him. His face is pale, drawn. The confident concern I saw in the bloodied courtroom is now nowhere in evidence. I barely have time to take in the glistening, fear in his eyes before my own fears rise up again. I struggle not to see his blood soaked hands, as they were, images of the horrible carnage dancing in front of my tightly, closed eyes again. My head drops low as I fight the emotion threatening to reclaim me. His head tips down, as he rests his forehead against mine. Somehow this gesture means more than anything my addled mind could have summoned up, its reassurance, letting me feel his presence but not complicated by any other worries.

Shuffling feet behind him alert me, my head lifting suddenly at the perceived threat, as I slowly come to recognize there is no threat, we are still standing in my open doorway and the shuffling feet belong to one of my neighbours, making his way home.

I swallow deeply, my momentary fear having spiked my heart rate, dragging me out of the brief calm I had found in his presence.

I step back, allowing him to enter my home. He puts down this ever-present briefcase and pulls off his coat, throwing them carelessly, on a nearby chair.

 _"Liv, how is he?"_ he croaks, clearing his throat gently, to try to push the words out.

I struggle to answer this simple question, my mouth suddenly unable to form even the simplest words. I nod.

His hands now free of the obstacles that hindered them on his arrival, I see his arms reach for me. The comfort I had longed for only moments ago now seems imminent, but instead of falling gratefully into his arms, I quickly step back, grasping onto his nearest outstretched arm instead. I want so desperately to feel the comfort I would find in his embrace, but knowing I'm unable to deal with the emotions that would once more ravage me.

He seems to understand and returns the tight grasp I have on his arm.

As always, my brain, not content with my current level of suffering, chooses to remind me of how Erin Lyndsay couldn't allow her partner to comfort her, as we stood over the battered body of her best friend. I wonder if this was how she felt, how refusing yourself the comfort you crave, may help to somehow keep it all at bay.

I feel my body shaking. The reminder of recent agonies too much for my shocked being to endure, I start to feel a black curtain creeping down my vision. My legs no longer strong enough to hold me, I start to slide slowly towards the floor. I feel his hands grabbing me, controlling my fall, and then I feel his arms around me, his body supporting me. My head spins wildly.

 _"Liv..."_ I dimly hear his worried voice calling to me.

 _"Liv, you're ok...you're ok..."_ he soothes gently. _"It's just all too much, you fainted...you're ok..."_

That's how it feels, it's just too much. Like everything has been piling more and more weight on top of me, until now it has reached 'critical mass' and I just can't take it anymore. I can't stand up because the weight is crushing me. It's not just a mental feeling, it's physical, my body feels like it is being crushed. I'm exhausted.

My body is no longer limp in his arms, I'm sure he can feel me curl slightly into him.

He holds me tighter, soothing _"You're ok...Liv. It's ok_ ”, his lips so close to my ear, that his voice is barely a whisper.

He is sat, uncomfortably twisted on my floor, his arms wound securely around me, looking at me, concern pulling at his face, terror in his eyes.

_"I'm sorry"._

His body protects mine unmoving, but his head pulls back, his eyebrows raised questioningly, his eyes searching for the reason for my words.

_"Liv, why are you sorry?"_

I can't find the words to answer him. The answer too all-encompassing, and deep to even hazard words at.

I can see his familiar expression, as he tries frantically to figure out the thinking behind my words.

 _"Is Nick really ok?"_ he asks.

 _"His knee..."_ my parched mouth answers, trying to make sense of the swirling, jumbled mass in my head.

I see the pain cross his face as he realizes that his life is not in danger but he may never be the same again.

He has no more words, he just nods, pulling me tighter to him.

As I sit, cocooned in his warm embrace, I know I am still in shock. The odd, empty, disconnect alternates riotously with overwhelming emotion.

For no reason I can fathom, again, it feels like I am back in that desolate brick maze, tied to that table, **him** behind me. My breath hitches almost painfully in my throat, I know I am safely in my apartment with Rafael's arms snugly wound around me but I can **feel** what caused these feelings, the last time. This time its not the gunshot I relive, it's infinitely worse; it's the moment I have struggled so hard to try to forget. I can feel **him** pressed against the back of my body, the hard edge of the table bruising my hips as I feel **his** growing hardness. The tight embrace that was so comforting, is now oppressive, fear trickling through my body as I start to twist out of his arms.

He seems to feel the fear that courses through my body, and gently releases me, scrambling back a little to give me space. He reaches his hand over, stroking my hand softly, but his face betrays his confusion, his fear, and his agony...

I am dimly aware that he thinks I am afraid of him. I can usually pull myself out of these memories, almost two years of therapy has taught me how, but in my weakened, shocked, state,... I can't. Forced to relive the moments I thought were leading to my rape, I cower shaking on my apartment floor.

He seems to understand that I am lost somewhere in my past, he starts to calmly tell me that I'm safe, I'm in my apartment, that he won't hurt me...

His careful words, slowly, pull me back to reality, but it feels like the last year hasn't happened. It all feels so fresh. I can't do it all again...

I look to him, _"I can't do this..."._

 _"It's ok Liv. Talk to me, what did I do to scare you? I'm sorry, what happened, where did you go?..."_ he looks like he has a million more questions, but instead, takes a deep breath and waits, hoping desperately for an answer.

I don't want to answer him, I don't want him to know how thoroughly broken I am. It feels like once he knows, he won't want anything more to do with me, but I owe him an explanation. As I see him, discretely look down into his lap, worriedly, I understand. I can't risk him thinking that his body somehow betrayed him, that he scared me.

 _"No..."_ I shake my head emphatically. My dry throat catches my words. He quickly goes to my fridge, pulling out a bottle of water, opening it, sitting beside me on the floor, passing it to me. I take a long sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe my sore throat. If only my spirit could be soothed as easily...

My hand reaches for him _"Rafael_ , _you did nothing. You didn't scare me. You could never scare me..."_

At the assurance that I was not afraid of him, he slides closer to me, his arm wrapping across my shoulders, his hand grasping tightly to my shoulder.

I take another long sip of the cold water.

_"Since I got home...I think...I'm in shock..."_

He nods his agreement, careful to not interrupt me, knowing instinctively, how hard this is for me. His fingers stroke my arm gently, where it lies across my shoulders, silently encouraging me to continue.

_"I keep thinking back to when I last felt... **this**..."_

I see the understanding dawning on his features.

_"It feels like it's all happening again...I've learned, in therapy, how to stop it, but I think it's the shock...I couldn't..."_

_"You thought I was Lewis?"_ he asks, understanding, but this understanding brings with it pain, pain that I could associate him with that monster in any way.

 _"No, Rafael, I felt safe, calm...and then...I felt nothing, a horrible emptiness...like when I was in the granary...and I **felt** the table, the restraints on my wrists, I was trying to get out of them, he was behind me...pressing against me..."_ My hands close into fists, as I battle the images again.

Now he seems to understand.

_"Liv,..."_

I can see how upset he is, how he wants to stop my pain...

His free hand reaches across, almost without his permission. Softly brushing away tears I didn't even know were there.

_"Too much hurt, Liv. I wish I could take it all away..."_

_"I don't understand Rafael, I was fine, like... **then**...why is it after, that it feels like I'm drowning...when the danger is passed...?"_

He nods in real understanding now.

I take in his relatively disheveled appearance, how he looked like he was in pain when he arrived, the haunted look in his eyes as I opened the door. He doesn't think I'm weak because he felt something similar. He was shocked too. Not as people use that word all the time, as another word for surprised. He felt **shock**.

When I attribute the emotion to him, there is no weakness implied. How could he not be shocked? He saw a man pull a gun in a crowded courtroom, coldheartedly, unthinkingly, shoot a court office and a judge, he saw him threaten everyone before killing another officer and shooting one of our team...

He saw his place of work turned into a killing ground.

Suddenly my reactions that were so shameful and weak moments ago, are swiftly knocked into their appropriate position. We have just experienced a deep trauma. They were human, natural reactions.

I silently grasp the hand that had wiped away my tears, squeezing it tightly.

He squeezes it back, and I feel his gently shaking body.

The comfort I couldn't allow when I felt it was pity driven, was as much needed but him as it was by me.

Our shared trauma allowing us to be there for each other, when before I felt like I was only ever taking, selfishly, from him.

All doubt gone now, I almost throw myself into his arms, wrapping my own arms, tightly around his back, my head resting on his strong chest, as I had so longed for.

 _"I could have lost you Liv..."_ his strangled voice gasps, as he pulls me as close to his body as he possibly can.

 _"I thought he was going to shoot **you** , Rafael..."_ I mirror his concern, allowing my body to completely relax into his, as our acknowledgments of frantic worry for the other, soak into our battered minds.

I am sitting between his widespread legs, my hip pressed closely against him, my body leaning heavily against his, my arms wrapped tightly around his torso as my head buries itself into his warm chest. I feel his heart slow, gradually, from the frantic thuds that first greeted me to a more relaxed rate, as we cling to each other.

I start to feel my eyelids fighting harder with each blink, to stay closed, complete exhaustion overtaking me.

 _"Liv, come on, you need to get some sleep, you're exhausted"_ I hear him trying to rouse me gently.

 _"Come on, you need your bed..."_ he entreats but all I want is the safety I'm feeling now, in his arms.

He manages to somehow pull me to my feet, quickly wrapping his arm across my back, he dips down, his other arm snakes under my knees and he whips me off my feet. My arms slide around his neck as he carries me into my bedroom.

He starts to gently lie me down on my bed; I cling tightly to his neck, silently pleading with him to not leave me.

 _"I'm not leaving you, Liv"_ he softly reassures me.

Instead he pulls the chair over beside my bed, sitting into it before he again reaches for my hand.

Gratitude for his thoughtful, instinctive, understanding, floods through me. Instead I pull him back onto my bed to lie beside me.

 _"I trust you..."_ I whisper as he lies back down. I turn onto my side wrapping my arms around him as he pulls me over even further. My body now, lies half way across his, my head on his chest, his strong arms wound tightly around me, one of my legs between his.

I barely have time to register the warmth spreading through my body as my eyelids start to close. My last thought as sleep claims me, is one of hope, maybe I'm not completely broken.

The expected nightmares don't arrive as I sleep soundly, the only slight disruption to my sleep coming, as he slips, quietly, back into the pulled up chair, clasping my hand tightly as I curl back into his outstretched arm.

In my semi-waking state I try to groan my disapproval, but he is adamant.

_"Rest Liv. I'm still here...I couldn't bear it if I scared you..."_

I force my eyes open, wanting to argue with him.

His hair is tousled and sticking up, his clothes are slept in and his face has a red mark where my head had been resting against it. I reach my hand over to stroke his cheek, feeling the soft stubble pushing through.

As if to answer my unspoken question, of how he thinks he could scare me, he kisses my open palm gently, whispering _"You're too beautiful a woman to be able to lie like that with,...my body would react to you, whether I granted it permission or not."_

He softly kisses my palm again.

_"Sleep, cariño, sleep...I will be here when you wake..."_

My eyes start to close again, as I lie on my side, curling into his arm, his hand clasped tightly between mine. I cannot stop the smile that moves my lips.

**Rafael Barba is attracted to me, but he cares too much to share my bed until I am really ready.**

That thought lulls me back into a contented, restful, sleep.

 


	22. I want to be here for you

My neck muscles are tight, from the way my head tilted to the side, towards her, as I slept. My back has a kink in it that is going to take a week to work out. I have only slept lightly, dozing gently, never fully switching off...and yet I feel fantastic. I feel rested in a way that no amount of sleep alone could ever achieve.

My shoulders may be stiff from maintaining their overnight position but the horrible shocked stress from yesterday has eased immensely. Nick is going to be ok and she is lying safely in her bed, beside me.

I struggle not to stare at her, as she sleeps, curled into my arm, grasping my hand, lightly now, in her relaxed sleeping state.

I can't believe this has happened.

There have been no promises made or time lines discussed, but somehow, without meaning to, we have both made our intentions clear.

A smile tugs at my lips, as I consider that I may actually have a chance with her.

It is so much more than I had ever let myself believe, even in my less lucid moments.

Last night when we talked, she trusted me enough to really talk to me. I cannot describe how honored I feel, when she shares her feelings with me. I know she isn't someone that naturally wants to describe her flashback, so when she is willing to explain it to me I understand this is a huge privilege, she is taking me deeply into her confidence.

I hate that she still can feel what it was like to be restrained to a table like that... To know what the monster who did it is capable of...but yet to be willing to offer yourself up to him, to protect a child...

She is incredible.

I try to imagine what she felt last night, when she was back in that moment, she had to have been terrified,...A cold shiver runs down my spine as I consider it, but I know I can't understand.

Simply by my gender our experiences are disparate. I know that women grow up with an added level of caution, because it is needed. That whilst rape and sexual assault are crimes also perpetrated against men and boys, we don't grow up with that same ever-present danger lurking over us in the same way. As men we have the freedom to live our lives more obliviously.

Women are trained from childhood to be aware of their surroundings, to avoid dark or desolate places, to not leave their drink unattended in public, to lock car doors when driving alone, to be aware of the men in their lives, whether it's a date or a friend, they learn early to listen to their instincts, to stay in public places, to not allow themselves to accidentally be separated from a crowd, to be alert to 'warnings'...

Men don't think to walk to their car at night, with their keys grasped in their hand, ready to access their car, or to be used as a weapon if necessary. We know that we should be careful that our drink isn't tampered with in a bar or club, but we wouldn't think to watch the bartender in the same way. Our perceived level of danger in most of these every day situations is just completely different.

She has experienced sexual assault at the hands of an authority figure, a prison guard who should have protected her, she has experienced horrific assaults on every level from Lewis, so I cannot begin to imagine, the knowing, terror that she must have felt...

It makes me physically sick to imagine her reliving this memory.

I don't want to be able to see this...To picture her terror. ...To imagine her face as he pressed himself up against her... To see his hands on her...

I want it to have not happened. I want to have stopped it.

But it did happen and I couldn't stop it.

If she had to go through all that, and she has to live with the memories, I want her to be able to share her pain with me. I want to understand as much as I possibly can. I **need** to able to try and comfort her when she is upset or scared. I **need** to be there even when she doesn't want me to see her suffering.

I want to be a part of everything that is part of her.

Because I understand some of what she has been through I know what it means when she tells me she trusts me.

When she pulls me to her bed and relaxes her body into mine as she did, not only am I basking in the physical sensations of holding her so close to me, or the knowledge that she wants to be close to me, but also the understanding that while she is not ready for anymore, this is a huge leap of trust for her, that this is not just a little, fully clothed, cuddle.

I can't avoid wondering about her and Cassidy. It feels wrong to be thinking about it but I can't avoid the thoughts. I wonder what she told him about what happened...I can't imagine how the conversation would have gone... As much as I never liked him, I feel real sympathy for the man. I saw his agony when she was missing. I hate to imagine what effect this all must have had on him too.

I realize now, how easy, in comparison, things are for me. Time has, undoubtedly, reduced the rawness for her. She has learned coping mechanisms for her symptoms of PTSD. She has had time to work through some of her fears. And we are only finding each other. There are no expectations, no painful comparisons of behavior before and after. No huge changes in what is ok, no concern about what nakedness or physical contact is ok **NOW**...

I think about how hard it would have been for him to separate his desires from what she was subjected to. I know how I dream of touching her, getting to know her body, making love to her, but how I worry that a certain touch or action will bring her back to Lewis' attacks. Or how I feel guilty for even thinking about doing something she currently doesn't want. How did he cope?

I feel bad wondering did they manage to have any physical relationship at all after Lewis? My nerves start to kick in when I consider, if I would be her first after... The responsibility is awesome. What if I do something wrong?

It feels hugely premature, but I start to consider this possibility.

I would have to be very slow, very gentle. I would have to be careful that she doesn't feel trapped, very conscious of our positions, I would have to be very controlled. I couldn't just let go and see what happened. I would have to be very alert to her reactions, and allow her to control or dictate a lot of what would happen.

I can't control the thoughts buzzing through my head; if she looks triggered, should I stop and move away, or do I just ask her is she ok? She hates that question though.

I start to panic slightly, as I worry myself with possible reactions, triggers and how I should handle them. As her head nuzzles my arm gently in her sleep, I am pulled back to reality. I am projecting way too far into the future trying to preempt impossibly.

It doesn't matter.

None of it matters. All that matters is her.

My smile slips back onto my face as I recognize my old fears were pushing themselves to the fore again. How opening up to someone without a clear plan of the interaction, is one of my oldest dreads, because that is how you get hurt.

I understand, with this silent agreement that we are open to see what is between us, I am taking a giant leap into the unknown.

We may find that our initial attraction fizzles out, or we are not compatible...my mind races with all the possible negative outcomes, that would hurt me in a way I've never been hurt before, but the risk is still worth it.

If we ever embark on a physical relationship, I just know in my heart, we could deal with whatever might happen. I would never hurt her, once she knows that, and trusts me, none of the rest matters.

I know I should consider the professional complications too but with uncharacteristic wild abandon, I disregard them entirely.

As I look at this woman sleeping beside me, I just want to continue as we have been. For once, not concerning myself overly, with destinations and goals, happy instead to just enjoy the experiences of the journey.

I frown softly, wondering who I have become? This is not hard-assed Rafael Barba, the cocky, arrogant, selfish man, who happily keeps his eyes firmly, only, on his lofty ambitions.

My train of thought falls forgotten to the side as I see a pair of perfect brown orbs staring up at me.

 _"Good morning?"_ I ask tentatively, suddenly worried she will be scared at my presence or regretting her actions last night. She was in shock.

Maybe none of it was real...

 _"You stayed..."_ she confirms softly, blinking sleep from her eyes.

 _"You must have been so uncomfortable there, did you get any sleep?"_ she queries, slowly sitting up, gently running her hands through her sleep mussed hair.

She chews her lip thoughtfully, as if debating whether her next words should be uttered at all...

 _"Last night..."_ she starts confidently but immediately falters, her hand reaches up and strokes my stubbled cheek, _"I heard you...as I went back to sleep..."_ She drops her head slightly as she bites her bottom lip, her eyes peeking up at me.

I instantly understand her hesitant voice, and her braced body, like me she is worried that it wasn't real. Warm relief floods through me and I lean forward, gently puling her towards me. I softly press my lips to hers, my hands finding their way to either side of her face. I feel her return the delicate kiss.

I pull my head back a little and look deeply into those beautiful brown eyes. _"Liv, I want nothing more than to fall asleep with you in my arms...but I wouldn't be able to control my body's reaction to you, no amount of self control could prevent my body from making its feelings clear, and I refuse to risk scaring you."_

I can see her getting ready to assure me that I don't scare her but I gently shake my head, _"I know you trust me and you aren't afraid of me, but while you sleep, you wouldn't be fully in control, my presence could be enough to cause you distress..."_

Tears start to gather in her eyes, and I worry I've said something wrong. She gently rests her forehead against mine, her hand taking mine.

 _"Rafael..."_ she whispers, as the tears slowly creep down her cheeks.

 _"Tell me, Cariño?"_ I plead tenderly.

_"You should be irritated that you barely slept last night, in an uncomfortable chair. You should be frustrated that I pulled you into my bed, wrapping my body around you, but with no further intention...We are not young teenagers, you shouldn't have to worry about a normal physical reaction. I don't want to damage you too..."_

_"Oh Liv, you aren't damaged. You were hurt...unimaginably...you are healing. I'm not irritated in the slightest...I feel incredibly lucky...I got to fall asleep and wake up beside you..."_

I know she is listening carefully, I can see I have her undivided attention. I gently press my lips to hers again.

_"I know I don't know everything you have been through, but I know enough to understand how waking up to find a momentarily, unidentified, man's excitement pressed up against you would scare you...I won't be responsible for anymore heartache for you."_

Her face creases momentarily as my words sink in.

 _"I hate that I'm like this..."_ she nods as she acknowledges the truth in my statement.

_"No please, Liv, don't say that. I'm constantly astounded by how amazingly strong you have been, how unbelievably well you have healed..."_

_"Rafael, I'm so broken, I don't want to break you too..."_

This is the second time she has said something about breaking or damaging someone, I search my brain trying to understand the allusion...

Who could she be worried she broke? And then I understand, Cassidy...the man who I felt sympathy for...

_"Liv, are you talking about Cassidy?"_

The tears flowing down her face speed up, in answer to my question.

_"Why do you say you broke Cassidy?"_

She sniffs softly, seemingly unsure whether this is a discussion she should be having with me...

 _"Did you ever talk to him about this?"_ I decide to slightly change tack, when I see her hesitance.

 _"Not really..."_ she admits. _"It's hard to talk about..."_

I nod, _"But you know you can talk to me about anything, Liv..."_

She takes a deep breath, _"We never...after Lewis, I couldn't...We tried to..."_

I take her hands in mine, gently nodding my understanding as she struggles to find the words to explain.

She sighs, her relief at not having to say those words clear...

_"He was so patient, so thoughtful...he never pressured me, or made me feel bad...but what you were afraid of happening last night...things like that happened...it hurt him terribly, I think he felt guilty...if we tried anything, he was hesitant, unsure...he was like a different man..."_

I feel a lump suddenly blocking my throat. My imagined scenarios of earlier, are confirmed and my heart breaks for her, my dislike for him melting as I realize how hard it has to have been.

 _"Liv, I had wondered..."_ I decide her heartfelt honesty deserves the same from me, _"I don't think anyone would have expected anything else after all that you went through...I never really knew him very well but I saw his despair while you were missing, he really cared for you...I can only imagine that like I felt after Rollins disclosed what Patton did to her, he felt that hatred that he even shared that same body part. I'm sure he just didn't want to hurt you, you have already been hurt more than one person should ever be. But I can understand that it wasn't how things had been, and you wanted something to have not changed completely..."_

She nods to confirm my supposition.

_"You didn't damage or break him... He was affected by Lewis' actions as well... He too will heal. "_

_"What if I can't...ever...?"_ she breathes faintly.

_"Oh Liv. I don't care if the most I ever get to do is kiss you... but look at all the amazing things you have managed to achieve, nobody with any sense would bet against you. It's been barely a year since..."_

For a second I don't know how to finish this sentence. It would be insulting to downplay her experiences with a _'that',_ and his name doesn't deserve to be said. I don't want to use the cold, clinical work terms that roll off our tongues with such ease when we discuss other people; I don't want to distance us from the reality but also don't want to remind her too harshly of what happened. I don't know what to say, so I take a risk...

 _"Liv, I want to be here for you. I felt so honored last night, when you trusted me, to tell me about your flashback. I will not put any pressure on you, I'm truly enjoying what we have..."_ I punctuate this with another soft kiss, _"My feelings are not platonic, but I am in no rush...and if you decide, later, that you don't feel the same way, I would still want to be your friend. I can't imagine not having you in my life... I want you to be able to talk to me when you're having a bad day, when a smell brings you back..."_

I can't help remembering what Fin said about the sound of the waves, on the beach while they were searching for Nadia...

_"...when standing on a beach reminds you horribly of the beach house...we need to be able to talk about these thing. What words make you uncomfortable? How do we describe what happened? I don't want these conversations to sound like we are discussing work...finish my sentence for me... It's been barely a year since...?"_

She looks at me, her face clearly showing her shock _..."How did you know when we were searching for Nadia, ...the beach...?_

_"Fin figured it out..."_

She nods, _"He doesn't miss much..."_

 _"Liv, finish my sentence for me... It's been barely a year since...?"_ I reiterate my question softly.

_"I don't know, sometimes I try to think about what to call it...nothing seems to fit...quite often I just say 'Lewis', it's the only thing that describes all of it..."_

_"Does hearing his name upset you?"_

_"Sometimes...it depends...it seems childish to say **'Him’** , but yet it is easier...I'm sorry, I know it doesn't help, I can't give you a word..."_

_"No Liv, don't apologize, I understand. No!...you know what, I don't! I can't possibly understand! I haven't had to live it, but I'm trying,... I can see how you would not always want to hear his name...I think that **'Him'** is a really good way to encompass all that he forced upon you. We need to be able to talk, I want to hear what you feel, what scares you..."_

She is clearly deep in reflection, I choose to stay silent, allowing her to organize her thoughts into some semblance of order, so that she can find whatever it is she wants to say. I stand slowly from that chair, moving onto the bed beside her, wrapping my arms around her as she looks at me, and I know she is in the present moment.

_"You know the worst thing...the worst bit of all of it...?"_

I know she can feel me tense, I can't help it. I'm terrified of what she is about to say...

 _"Tell me, Cariño?"_ my voice is husky, but I won't hide my fear, we need to be honest.

_"He knew what he was doing..."_

Her simple words, cause my fear to spike even further,...

_"When he was taking me from the car to Amelia...in the granary...he knew when he touched me, I was having a flashback, he told me PTSD was real...he knew that I woke up in my own bed, covered in a cold sweat, thinking he was in the room with a gun to my head...how it is nothing to be ashamed of... how all 'his girls' go through it...how he was 'an agent of change'...how he altered the trajectory of people's lives...they might have hopes and dreams before they run into him but then life as they know it is gone, ...how getting out of a car, opening a door, or hearing a sound makes me think of him... I tried to deny it, it told him he was wrong. I denied that I have dreams about him... He knew that I had nobody in my life, that Brian had to be gone...he asked did I find it hard to trust after what we went through, that there's a tendency to isolate, to withdraw,... how he hoped I was seeing a therapist,...he asked me to promise I would...he told me how the therapist probably sat there with me, telling me I'm working through it, how I can be whole again, but he's lying...what **he** does, nobody ever recovers from..."_

I had steeled myself for her revelation. I had prepared myself to hear that he had in fact raped her, early on in her first kidnapping and she had somehow, managed to conceal it from the rape kit. I was ready to hear horrible details of some previously undisclosed sexual assault. I waited to hear how he had forced her body to react to him, to betray her. I had never anticipated this...

I can barely command my body to suck in oxygen as I struggle to understand this vile admission.

She is unmoving in my arms. Not relaxed, almost limp.

I tighten my grip on her, anxious to communicate my unwavering support for her, as I battle to absorb her words.

 _"Oh Liv..."_ I know she can hear my tears in my voice.

_"I had steeled myself for whatever you were going to say...I couldn't have anticipated that...that's too horrific...what kind of psychopath uses the effects of his previous torture to torture you a second time..."_

I shake my head repeatedly, disbelieving at the depths of his depravity and also trying to shake loose the images his words have painted.

_"I underestimated him. I somehow didn't realize he was this bad. I knew you felt he shot himself as a final way to torture you...I knew he wanted you to be blamed for shooting him but I thought he was just desperate to escape his inevitable lifetime incarceration...I couldn't understand how he would be willing to sacrifice his life to complete his mission to torture you...I was wrong, you were perfectly right..."_

She nods tightly. Her eyes closed against the deluge of tears.

_"Liv, he was right, you do have dreams, you do wake up to feel he's in the room, but he was also very wrong, you are recovering..."_

I hope she can hear the truth in my words. I am, once again, astonished by the agonizing depth, of what she has had to experience, at the hands of that monster. I find myself wanting to dig him up from his anonymous grave, to kill him again, such is my anger at his unbelievable cruelty.

_"Liv, you are recovering...even when it doesn't feel like it, you are...you have been promoted at work, you have Noah now..."_

She shifts slightly in my arms, turning to face me.

 _"And you?..."_ she queries almost silently.

Despite my lingering rage at **'Him'** and my agony for her, I can't stop the big smile that pulls at my face. _"You probably couldn't get rid of me if you tried..."_

Her lips turn up into a broad smile, but her eyes still show her tumultuous emotions as she leans in and kisses me again, her tongue slowly tracing the line between my lips, quickly snaking into my mouth, flicking my tongue as I groan lightly at the sensations. We kiss until the need for oxygen tears us apart. Again she gently rests her forehead against mine.

She pulls back her head and I see her face and neck are slightly flushed.

 _"Maybe I'm not quite as broken as I feared I was..."_ she mutters almost embarrassed.

 _"Are you sure?"_ I answer. She looks at me slightly confused, until she sees my trademark smirk, _"I mean if you were to want to try that again at some point,...just to make sure...?"_

She laughs softly as a little voice calls from the other room, _"Mama!"_

She smiles adoringly at the sound of Noah's voice, as she starts towards him, turning at the door, _"Maybe just making out like a couple of teenagers doesn't sound too bad after all..."_ she grins.


	23. How can it only be a few short months?

How can it be, that only a few short months have gone by?

It feels like a lifetime.

So much has happened.

As yet another page flips over on the calendar, one small page doesn't seem enough to mark the passing of another whole month, and I can't help but reflect on how much change the last few months have brought.

When I think back to the start of the year a queasy feeling rumbles idly, in my stomach, immediately reminding me of my unveiled secrets.

I don't think I will ever forget sitting on the stand trying not to look at Barba, as I whispered words I never envisaged saying about myself, struggling to keep my tears at bay. I still curse myself for being too weak to keep it to myself anymore, but then I realize that by letting those words fall from my lips I have freed myself.

Not from the inexplicable shame, not from the stinging feeling that I am forever contaminated by the stains of his actions, or the worry that I am damaged beyond repair. Those feelings still haunt me, but maybe less keenly than they did. But I am freed from the crushing secret, from the worry that my current colleagues would betray my trust, by somehow morphing into a New York version of my disbelieving, slut shaming, Atlanta peers.

I still can't quite believe how all the earth shattering consequences of my closely guarded secret being revealed, that I was so positive would begin the instant I let it slip, have still not materialized.

I always **knew** that Liv would be disgusted by my stupidity. That the further evidence of my lack of judgment, my bad character, would lead to me being transferred out of SVU. How could it not? She had warned me, after Lt. Murphy had given me a second chance, that she didn't trust me and that I had no more chances left. But instead of my expected tongue-lashing and transfer, she was supportive, unbelievably kind. The incident I believed would end my career, has brought me closer to my squad and finally made a friend of the woman I have so long admired.

Even the cold, prickly, arrogant ADA I had no desire to get to know has been considerate, warm and gentle.

I have felt no judgment, no disappointment, no disgust...

The pity I dreaded, that I knew would make me weak, powerless even, has shown itself instead, to be sympathy, at my horrible experience.

I find myself wondering are pity and sympathy actually just the same emotion, their differences merely a matter of how they are perceived by their subject?

I felt that my colleagues pitied me; that they were judging my stupidity, and being kind in 'allowing' that my bad judgment had led to a painful and hard lesson. It took time and repeated assurances from many people before I could begin to understand that, in fact, what they were feeling for me was sympathy; that I had been so horribly betrayed by my superior officer.

I know that is progress. I know that I have made more inroads into healing in the last few months than I did in the previous five years, but it still feels like I'm failing miserably. As if the filth that enveloped my body, as I lay trapped under him, in that bed, still mars my skin all these years later.

It all just feels so fresh...

Like the intervening five years have just melted away.

I feel like such a fraud, I've spent years telling women in positions similar to the one I am grappling with now, that it is hard, but you can get past it, you survived, you did nothing wrong, but I don't know that I believe you really can get over it.

I am doing better, I know that, but as I start to heal, I'm realizing how much effect what happened has had on my life. I thought that when I was able to have sex again, it meant I had put what happened behind me. I believed that when I could enjoy the physical sensations again, it meant I had dealt with it all. I definitely enjoyed sleeping with Nick, never once did my mind conjure up memories of Patton when were together, but did the absence of flashbacks to that night, mean he really exerted no influence on my short-lived fling?

I can barely even admit in my own mind, that as I lay on my couch with Nick, in the hours after we found the body of our Chicago colleague, Nadia, I was scared that we might find ourselves, inadvertently, falling back into each others arms, as we had before, when things got too hard to bear.

I lay in his muscled arms, dozing lightly, feeling comforted, reassured, safe, but also feeling a familiar warmth, a desire. I could think back and remember my body moving against his, twisting in pleasure. I remembered how easily I found escape from my thoughts in his skilled sensuality. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted, again, to feel his hands, his lips, his tongue on me. I wanted to feel his length deliciously stretching me, as pulses of bliss swept me to a frenzied release.

But it wasn't that simple, I didn't want to equate my body pleasurably stretching to accommodate him, with the tearing pain of my body trying to refuse Patton's invasion. This thought terrified and upset me. I was appalled at my inability to distinguish between the two polar opposite actions. How could I contemplate pleasure when I was worried I would instead feel fear? Nadia's death had left me feeling even more raw, than my own recent disclosure.

I don't quite know how to categorize my relationship with Nick. We were more than friends for a while, maybe friends with benefits, but I secretly always hoped that maybe the damage I did in a drunken haze, was not un-fixable. That someday, maybe we could see where things were heading before I sabotaged it.

He is something I never expected I would find; a good man. I had almost accepted that I didn't deserve all the things that Nick made me feel; adored, desired, protected, secure...I didn't doubt him and by default I didn't doubt myself as much...

As I lay in his embrace, again, I was worried that the timing would be all wrong were we to fall back into each other's arms then. I knew that he wouldn't make any move without my express permission, I was completely safe and at ease in his presence, but I did breathe a sigh of relief when we just slept, comforted and protected from the agony of the day in each other's arms.

I always knew we would only have one more chance and I didn't want to squander it, whether it was to be friends or more...

I somehow never saw this in our future.

I can't believe the words I have just heard him say.

_"Amanda, please...stop tidying, the calendar is fine, sit down and talk to me..."_

I force myself to sit back down onto the couch beside him. I know the 'old me' would just keep tidying, anything to avoid the conversation but I was afraid to leave anything unsaid. I came too close to losing him, nobody knows what future awaits them.

_"Did you hear what I said? Amanda, I have made too many mistakes...I don't have a career here anymore...in a lot of ways this is the best thing that could have happened..."_

He gestures to his knee, shrugging.

_"Nick, I understand...I do..."_

Unfortunately my mouth is not cooperating with my brain. My brain is screaming _'no, you can't go...'_ but my mouth is telling him I understand.

 _"Amanda..."_ he gently takes my hands in his, _"I'm so glad that we've talked so much in the last while, I'd missed that, I'd missed you...I understand so much more now. I can't imagine how you got through five years of that secret,... how badly Lewis affected you,... how hard Nadia's death was for you, ...how you thought I was going to die...I heard some of the things you said in the hospital when you thought I was out cold... **please** , talk to me..."_

_"I don't know how I feel Nick...except that you are my friend, I want you to be happy...I know how much your kids mean to you...I completely understand that you haven't got a future in the NYPD...I just don't want to lose you."_

He nods his agreement at not wanting to lose our friendship. I chew on my lip and continue.

_"I don't know if we ever were meant to be more than friends, Nick...I don't know if maybe we could have made it work...I know I screwed it all up either way...but you're the one who has been there for me, when I didn't want to talk about Patton, but felt like I was going to explode from trying to keep the words in...you held me even when I pushed you away...you listened to all the sick details and somehow made me feel better...if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be seeing a therapist..."_

_"No Amanda, you did all that...you are so strong...you are the one who has worked so hard...and I will always be here for you..."_

_"No Nick you won't... you won't be **here**...you'll be all the way across the country...we'll talk, maybe, and even possibly, sometimes, visit, but it won't ever be the same..."_

He shakes his head slowly _"No, it won't be the same...It feels like we never really got a chance doesn't it? Like if things had gone differently, we might have gotten the chance to find out whether we would have worked out?"_

I can only nod in answer.

_"You know you helped me to open up...if you hadn't been in my life, I wouldn't be where I am now...you showed me that maybe I'm worth more than I'd always thought...If it wasn't for you, I don't think I would have learned how to trust...and I'm so scared that when you leave I'll never trust anyone again..."_

He pulls me to him, into his arms, both of us careful of his healing leg.

_"Amanda, if it wasn't for you, I'd be in prison...you have probably given me more than I ever gave you..."_

That starts the tears I've been battling against.

_"See that's what I mean...I feel like all I've done is take from you, and in one sentence I feel better about myself..."_

_"Please don't ever think badly about yourself Amanda. I just wish you could see yourself even a little bit as I see you..."_

_"Maybe, because of you, I'm starting to...old Amanda wouldn't have been happy to just lie in your arms after Nadia, she would have felt she had to pay you with sex..."_

He chuckles lightly at this and I look at him, with a raised eyebrow, _"I did wonder was I the only one who was thinking inappropriate thoughts..."_

I settle back comfortably into his arms at this acknowledgment _..."God no, I could almost feel what could have happened...but the timing was bad, we were too upset...and for the first time I was worried I wouldn't be able to separate it and Patton..."_

_"Our timing has always been bad really hasn't it?...What do you mean you were worried you wouldn't be able to separate it and Patton...?"_

I start to wish I'd said nothing...

_"After Patton...after the first time, I didn't really have a problem with sex...it somehow didn't remind me or cause flashbacks or anything..."_

_"But something has changed...?"_ he asks softly.

I not my head slightly, I don't understand it, surely if I were going to have problems with it, it would have been immediately after...

_"Since Reese...I haven't...I mean it isn't that I couldn't...I just haven't...I guess I'm just worried..."_

_"That sounds pretty reasonable Amanda. C'mon, it's only been a few short months..."_

His words unconsciously echo my rambling thoughts, as he told me he was moving to California. But so much has changed in those few short months, my secret has been revealed to the world, Patton has seen some sort of punishment, I've found a second family, one who wants me...

I realize that families grow and change, that Nick has helped me grow, and maybe I have even helped him, in some ways. Families are still family, despite distance, despite arguments, despite people coming and going... I can't help but think Munch and Cragen are no less part of our family despite their retirement. Just members of the family we don't see as often.

_"Speaking of time passing, you know we are going to be late, Liv will wonder what has happened to us..."_

_"Just blame the cripple, nobody can say anything to that..."_ he grins at me, challenging me to contradict him.

 _"Munch would definitely have said plenty..."_ I counter, smirking at him, confident in my win.

 _"Yeah and Fin still might...let's get going...but Amanda, really, things will change and you're right I won't be here..."_ he gestures around his apartment and to the window, at the Manhattan skyline nestled between its frame _, "but I am always here for you, at any time, and California is only a plane ride away, I moving on, not leaving..."_

_"You'd better not be leaving me, I don't know if I can do it without you...and besides if Fin isn't going to be our new Sergeant and its not going to be you, then who the hell is it going to be?"_

As he starts to hobble up and gathers the crutches under his arms, he flashes his best smile at me, _"Well you know Amanda, maybe you could have a say in that..."_

I look at him in confusion, unsure as to how I could possibly have any input into such a decision.

_"I know you said you don't want to think about taking the exam now, that you are happy as a detective, but maybe in the future...you'd be great. Don't sell yourself short...maybe think about it, whether it's now or in the future..."_

I stop dead in my tracks. Shocked that he could even imagine it.

As I open the door for him, he leans in to me _"Anytime you're missing me just remind yourself that if you could see yourself as I can, you'd be able to see that you can do anything...let yourself be happy Amanda, you deserve to be happy!"_


	24. To Family.........

I'm reminded as I walk through the door of Liv's apartment how bittersweet this celebration is. Noah is hers, finally. He can never be taken from her. She has gotten the family she has always wanted,... but he won't be here anymore. I can't help my gaze finding it's way to him, as he hobbles in behind me, balanced precariously on his crutches. It's as if my mind is trying to stock up on images of him, in advance of his departure, in the vain hope that a full mental library can somehow, cushion the blow of his absence. I know he plans on telling her today and I know how upset she will be, that her family is growing and losing someone at the same time...

As we pass her the fragrant flowers we bought her, and the brightly colored, wrapped, gift for Noah, I am flooded with the sense of welcoming inclusion I feel at this intimate gathering. Last year I didn't want to attend a dinner party in her apartment because I didn't feel I belonged, but now I feel very much part of this group.

The sun shines brightly into the warm apartment, where my squad, my family, is celebrating our newest addition. We are all dressed casually, our usually stressed, tired, visages are nowhere in evidence, as we all happily chat over the gleefully, oblivious Noah.

I watch Nick steal a quiet moment, in the bustling apartment, with his partner, as she plates up deliciously decorated cupcakes. I know this is when she will hear he is leaving. I try to watch them discretely, ready to jump in if either or them look to need it.

I watch her face start to fall, as she begins to understand what he is telling her. As I distractedly play with Noah on the floor, I see tears start to gather in her eyes as they talk quietly.

I try to pull my eyes back to Carisi, as he calls my name, trying to get me to confirm that Fin is telling him the truth and not just winding him up, on whatever story he is telling him. I haven't heard what they were saying so I just shrug non-committedly.

_"Nah, man, I'm not buying it...Munch really got shot in the butt?..."_

I try to crack my face into a small smile at Carisi's disbelief, but the forced movement more resembles a grimace.

I'm trying desperately to control my emotions, my eyes raking the room searching for something to distract me from the pain of the further understanding that it is real, Nick is leaving.

I find that distraction in the most unexpected place. Barba is also quietly, stealthily watching Nick and Liv's exchange.

As I see her struggle to smile through glistening tears, I watch Barba's face furrow as he frowns into his drink.

I watch as Liv and Nick seem to share some deep understanding, Liv's eyes flicking briefly to Noah before they return to look at each other, struggling to keep tears at bay.

When I look back to Barba, I see that he is battling the urge to intervene to see why Liv looks upset. I can see, in his glowering features, how protective he is of her, how much her happiness matters to him, and how he is debating what punishment would be appropriate for Nick at ruining her joy, however fleetingly.

As Liv reaches out and wraps her arms around Nick, he simultaneously scowls deeper, in concern at what they are discussing and relaxes faintly, as he understands that she is not being hurt.

I can see how hard Nick is battling to keep his tears at bay as he returns Liv's hug, eventually having to break the embrace before it becomes too much for him.

The partners nod deeply at each other, as Liv returns to the cupcakes, and Nick, smilingly, at her gentle urging, finds a seat before he trips someone up.

I drop my head down to Noah, suddenly very interested in the colored blocks he is playing with, until I know I have my feelings under control and my tears are not going to make an unexpected break for it. It's amazing how every small thing now feels like an ending.

As my eyes unthinkingly scan around the room, I notice that Barba's gaze is still trained intently on Liv and I wonder, not for the first time, if their ever-growing friendship isn't more?

His eyes don't leave her, until her brown orbs meet his and she silently confirms she is ok. The tender gesture from this man still manages to surprise me, despite how much of his hidden depth I have been fortunate enough to see in recent months.

The tears I have been fighting back, again, seem imminent, as I realize that she really has got a family now. I'm somehow shocked at this development as I hurriedly excuse myself to the restroom.

I'm so happy for her, it feels that in her advances forward, my hope for myself is somehow reinvigorated too.

Wow though, Liv and Barba...

As I consider how thoughtful and gentle he has been with me in recent months, I find this unlikely pairing suddenly less unlikely. He has been there, through so much for her in the past couple of years...

I think back to when we found Nadia's body, his timely arrival in the precinct, his assurance that he would take her home...somehow I feel a bit dim for not seeing it then.

I calm myself and make sure the threat of tears has passed before I return to the party.

I find my way into the kitchen as I see Liv in there alone, taking the opportunity to check in to see how she is taking the news...

_"Congratulations again Liv. I'm so happy for you..."_

_"Thanks Amanda. I still can't quite believe he's mine..."_ she looks adoringly at the little boy sitting happily playing beside Barba. As I realize that Noah is wearing a little playsuit with shoulder straps I can't help but consider how close to suspenders they look to be, as the usual suspender wearer, smilingly holds out cake to a giggling Noah. I can't help but wonder is she only looking at Noah as she says these words.

 _"How are you taking the news Amanda?"_ she asks softly, the smile falling from her face.

I look at her in surprise. I know Nick wasn't going to tell her he had told anyone, even as he is leaving, we still want to protect our secret.

She grins knowingly at me, _"Oh Amanda, you can't honestly have thought you kept it a secret?"_

I still haven't figured out how to handle this so I just shrug at her, attempting, futilely, to communicate that I don't know what she is talking about.

_"We spend too much time together for that kind of secret, Amanda... Really though, are you ok?"_

I shrug again, this one an honest _'I don't know'. "It was only a short thing, Liv, we've been over a long time..."_

_"But Amanda, I know you both, it may not have been long, but it wasn't a casual, uncaring, thing. You've been through so much over the last while and I know he was there for you, in whatever capacity. It has to be hard for you to have him leave. I know it is for me."_

Again her honesty disarms me. _"It feels strange to think that he won't be here. He's made it very clear that he'll always be there for me but..."_

 _"It won't be the same..."_ she finishes for me, nodding softly.

_"He didn't think he was as important to me as my old partner...but he was somehow more...he has always supported me, even in the first days back after_

_Lewis, he didn't treat me..."_ she scrunches her face up as she struggles to find the right word and hold her tears back.

 _"...different..."_ I finish for her.

She nods gratefully at me, throwing her glance back to Noah where he stands against Barba. He quickly tries to hide that he was watching us as intently as he had watched her talk with Nick, undoubtedly aware that something is going on.

I look at her, grinning gently, my eyes flick theatrically to Barba and back, _"We **do** spend too much time together for that kind of secret..."_ I deliberately, teasingly, throw her own words back at her.

Her face flushes quickly, _"No, we're not...I mean, we aren't..."_

I feel bad for embarrassing her, and making her feel the need to defend or explain herself. _"I'm sorry Liv. I didn't mean to..."_

She sighs deeply, holding up a hand to stop me, _"Dammit, I'll have to watch you more carefully, I was worried about Fin figuring something out..."_

I raise an eyebrow at her, _"I'm pretty sure if I've gotten there he figured it out long ago..."_

 _"Yeah I know, he just sometimes sees too goddamned much!"_ she moans chuckling.

_"There's really nothing to notice though Amanda..."_

Again I raise my eyebrow at her, this time I see how she bites her lip and can't make eye contact with me. I immediately worry, _"Liv, is everything ok?"_

She nods softly and when she looks up to me again I know she is trusting me with a deep truth, _"There really is nothing...I think maybe there could possibly be...at some point...but..."_

I want to ask her what's wrong, has he done something? But I can see how hard this is for her, and I'm afraid that by jumping to conclusions I could make it even harder. _"It's ok Liv, you don't have to tell me, it's none of my business! I shouldn't have said anything..."_

 _"No Amanda, it's ok. I was butting into your business, turnabout is only fair...and maybe you are the only one who might really understand..."_ She takes a deep breath. _"He has been amazing to me, he has been there for me for so long I can't even figure out when he started to support me. I think, maybe, things have been changing between us for a while..."_ She looks over to him thoughtfully for a moment. _"I'm not ready for anything...I feel bad, stringing him along...but I just..."_

I bite my lip for a second, nodding, _"It's not easy..."_ I agree.

We both understand fully what we are talking about. It's not just sex. It's all the small, seemingly insignificant things that now seem so daunting for us.

It's knowing what we need to share, and when. It's somehow training ourselves to know that a body in our bed when we're only partly awake is not a threat. It's allowing ourselves to relax in intimate situations, to not be afraid of hurting a partner by stopping things because it just doesn't feel right. It's knowing that it is very reasonable to say that today, being naked feels too vulnerable. It's all of those little things that in our lives **before** , just weren't big things.

 _"I think maybe, after Patton, I tried too hard, I pushed myself to be ready even when I wasn't. I felt that it would only be a problem if I let it be. So I jumped into bed with anyone to just get it over with...I've somehow never equated what happened with sex with anyone else...until now anyway..."_ I try to shrug it off.

_"Amanda, I know you really knew deep down what happened, but I think the denial would have made it easier to distance yourself. I suppose maybe this is one of those temporary unwanted side effects of therapy. It's working, almost too well, things you had buried so effectively, now need to be addressed..."_

_"I know Liv. I know it's for the best too, but what if I can't fix it?"_

_"I've wondered exactly the same thing...I know I've done it before, I know it can be done...It's just this time it feels different I suppose..."_

_"Can you try to talk to him about it, maybe?"_ I gesture over at Barba.

She smiles very shyly, _"Yeah, I can. He understands...sometimes even better than I do...I've told him things I never thought I would..."_

I decide to be honest with her in answer to her earlier question _"I thought I would get another chance with Nick...at some point."_

She turns to face me.

_"I genuinely don't know if we were meant to be more, but I thought I'd have another chance..."_

She nods understandingly.

_"We talked about it, I think we both kind of feel the same, it just somehow wasn't meant to be...but if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have gotten this far..."_

The tears I have been battling since he told me he is leaving are pricking at my eyes impatiently now.

She gently leads me into her bedroom.

_"You have done amazingly Amanda... I can't believe how far you have come so quickly... It's only been a few months..."_

I can't help a small grin of gratitude, _"And a lifetime..."_ I add.

 _"I think maybe it takes a lifetime..."_ she agrees softly.

_"He isn't pressuring you, Liv, is he?"_

She shakes her head _"God no, he is so patient. Unbelievably so...and so thoughtful..."_ I see tears appear in her eyes as she clearly remembers back to some thoughtful gesture that has deeply affected her.

 _"He's such a good man,"_ she whispers.

_"He'd better be the best Liv, cos the guys won't stand for anything less for you...neither will I"_

She smiles widely at this, rolling her eyes at the thought of the guys...

_"Well the guys have nothing to be concerned about. We are just friends..."_

_"I'm very glad to hear that you're happy Liv, however things are...and I do understand. Don't rush into anything. I've seen how he looks at you, I think he is happy to follow your lead, but I reckon Fin or Nick would be very happy to beat him up if he sets a foot wrong..."_ I gently tease her. _"You have been so good to me over the last while. I honestly have started to wonder recently, if maybe pushing myself too hard, to be 'normal', after Patton, didn't cause even more damage. Please take it from someone who has made that mistake...don't"_

_"Hmmmmmmm. Well even if we were all good, there's a lot to consider before we could date anyway. IAB, 1PP and the DA's office would all have a fit..."_

_"I know the rules, Liv. And I know I broke them with Nick, but don't rule out someone who makes you happy, because of rules. One thing I have learned in these last few months is that life doesn't always go as you plan it will..."_

_'Liv, Amanda, C'mon... toast time..."_ Carisi bounds into the doorway.

We both laugh at his oblivious interruption.

Taking a deep breath we both join the others in the sun filled living room.

Again I see Barba's concerned eyes follow Liv until he is sure she is ok.

As Barba and Fin pour champagne into glasses I can't help but look around me. Liv stands happily with Noah balanced on her hip. She is smiling widely at her son. To her right stands Barba. He looks relaxed and happy. Lucy, Noah's sitter, is beside him, happily toasting Noah's adoption. I stand to Liv's left with Nick unsteadily wobbling on his crutches beside me until Carisi grabs his glass and slides in between us. Fin stands the other side of the small coffee table slowly raising his glass in toast, _"To family..."._


End file.
